Investigative Analyst Scarlett Holmes
by deathtoonormalcy
Summary: Scarlett Holmes. The daughter of the world's greatest consulting detective. Story of her adventures growing up and a devastating case which could change her entire life. Sequel to Scarlett Heart Theory. Not required though.  Johnlock
1. Chapter 1

I do not own BBC Sherlock

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><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

Shoulder dangling limply at my side. Popped out of socket? Shift slightly. Groan in pain. Definitely.

"Quiet." Kier pants above me, his larger body pinning me to the wall. I scowl up at him. People consider him my friend, I consider him the annoying prat who follows be around. Occasionally he can be of help, when something heavy needs lifting.

"My arm." I complain against his chest. He glances down, peering around the wall before gripping my arm firmly in his large grasp. I bit at his shoulder as he jerks it back into socket. Muffled scream.

"You okay?" He gasped, worry reflecting in soft brown eyes. Nod, assure him. Boring.

"Are they still there?" I whisper. He nods, still protectively obscuring my body with his own. Boring, tedious. Thinks of me as his little friend who needs to be protected. Want to elbow him in the stomach, teach him a lesson.

"Let's go." I cough. Rib bruised? Need to learn to fight better, Kier is a much more avid fighter than I. Annoying.

"You're hurt, we're going home." He says sternly.

"I already have two fathers, I don't need a third." I comment briskly. He tenses, glances down at me. The height disadvantage makes him think I'm small, a child who needs to be protected.

"This is dangerous. I'm not letting you get hurt, again." He says, much to my frustration he _is_ stronger than me by a wide margin. If he truly wants to drag me somewhere he is able, especially in my damaged state.

"I'm already injured. If that was your objective you've done a bang up job. Just leave, I'm fine on my own." Insult his ability to protect me. One of his touchy areas. Doesn't like it pointed out that he can't control me.

"I'm not leaving." He says. We've been 'friends' too long. He knows my manipulation tricks. He let's them slide off his shoulders. Too calm, too patient. Makes my blood boil.

"Lestrade will come if I need him." I comment, something snaps. He hates when I bring up Lestrade. Beneath his calm light brown eyes something is burning. I smirk.

"Let's go." He says, gripping my hands and dragging me to the office overlooking the Thames river. We leave the ally and enter the building. Kier's usual stoic face collapses with anxiety.

"Can we phone the police? This girls been mugged." Kier says frantically. The usual soothing tone of his deep voice vanishes for a prattling idiot. The woman at the front desk nods, worry. Doesn't even stop to think why two teenagers wouldn't have cell phones in this day and age.

"Hello, yes? My name is Don Finnegan. A girl's been mugged in the ally near the- Oh! Yes, we're inside the Letterman building along the Thames. Please hurry!" Kier rasped into the dial tone. He handed the phone back to the girl.

"I'm going to vomit." I sob pitifully.

"Take her to the bathroom!" The receptionist cries. Kier nods, leading me down the hall. His warm hand holds beneath my ribs, leading me until we vanish from her vision.

"Ten minutes before she gets suspicious." Kier says, straightening. I nod, glancing around.

"You're father is going to kill me." Kier mentions.

"Which one?" I ask, he sighs. Glancing up and down the halls I spot the room with the most likely vantage point.

"There." I say, running down the hall. Cursing at the locked door, I motion for Kier. He drops to one knee, pulling the lock pick from his pocket. The one I stole from my father. Never had the patience for lock picking, left it for Kier to manage. The door opens. I moan in delight, spreading my fingers. The image before me beautiful.

"Oh perfect!" I call, spinning around in glee. The room is a blood bath.

"Call Lestrade!" I laugh, dropping to inspect the marks. Papers strewn all over the room. Struggle. Glance rapidly around, my eyes straining for every detail.

"Get out!" I hiss when Kier's massive body takes up a part of the room, hiding it from my gaze. Rolling his eyes heaven ward he steps out, shutting the door behind me. Doesn't add up. Where's the body? No marks on the floor, couldn't have taken it out while it was still dripping. No time. Heating snaps on. Annoying. Where is it? Where could the body be stowed? Think, think. Where? Sniff.

"Oh ho ho." I chuckle.

"Kier!" I call, he opens the door. Finishes a few words, snaps his phone shut. Motion for him. He opens the vent that's out of my reach. Hold my arms out like a child, he lifts me. A dead man's broken body is shoved into the vent. A rumpled suit covered in blood. Press my knees on Kier's shoulders, inspect body.

"Multiple stab wounds."

"Your crotch is in my face." He grunts. Ignore him. Slit across neck? Why, the stabbing would be enough. Oh! I see.

"An argument, someone who hated this man. Premeditated." Tug at his pockets. Wallet not there. Curse.

"Stop fondling me." I mutter.

"I'm not!" Kier snaps. Smirk. Cell phone buzzes, ignore it.

"We're going to get caught." Kier says. Ignore him. I'm missing something. Noise. Ignore. Why would he leave the body hidden but not clean up his office. Didn't have enough time. Was interrupted? By who? Eyes widen.

"Kier!" I scream. Kier's fast, natural quick reflexes. Swoops me down and drops me into a princess hold. Runs from the room.

"Let go! We have to capture the murder!" I curse, slapping at his chest. Kier glares behind us, racing down the halls with the bumbling murderer who had been hidden in his bathroom.

"Are you kidding me? He has a knife." Kier mutters. Yelp as Kier barrels down the stairs. Humiliating.

"I can run!" I hiss, clawing at his shoulders. He winces but doesn't release me. Rounds a corner. Sirens. Flush a bit. Lestrade. Elbow Kier, nearly drops me. Enough. I jump from his hold, slamming him to the wall. Grunts.

"He's coming." Kier pants. I tug at his pants, glance up. His cheeks are red. Unbuckle belt. Kier's narrow hips, his jeans slide low on them. Belt gets caught in jeans. Pull.

"Scarlett!" Kier gasps. Shove him back against the wall when he tries to sit up.

"Distract him!" I snap. Kier jumps out from behind the corner. The bloody business man trembles, Kier is intimidating in his size. A large, fit young man with a strong build. Murder realizes he has a knife, swipes at him. Kier breathes heavily, lifting his fist in boxer style. Ducks another swing. Curses as it catches his stomach, rips open his shirt. Blood.

"Hey!" I scream. Hatred. I don't like when Kier is hurt . Man whips around, looking at me. Swipes. Not as fast as Kier. Kier slams him to the ground. I snap his wrist back. Not necessary, but I still break it. Payment for Kier's injury. Bloody knife falls with a dull thump on the carpet. Push Kier out of the way. Secure murderer with Kier's belt.

"Scarlett!" Lestrade shouts, running up the stairs. Heart flutters. I grin, sitting on top of my prize.

"The body is in the vent of his office. The victim took his promotion, better salesman. Jealousy. Murderer lured him into the office, locked the door murdered him only an hour ago. Multiple stab wounds to the torso, slit neck." I recited. Where those enough words to get my point across. It was hard for me to follow a normal persons thought pattern. Lestrade motioned for his officer to retrain the man squirming beneath me. I allow Lestrade to carefully lift me off the man. Why so careful? Oh. I was stabbed too. Wince. Dad and John are going to hear about this.

"What am I going to do with you? I can barely handle your father." He groans, his large tan hands holding my shoulders. I realize I'm blushing. Annoying.

"If you didn't give my dad all the good cases I wouldn't have to go behind your back." I say, frown when his hands leave me. Sniff. Scowl. Smells like Mycroft. Fat lard.

"You're only sixteen-"

"Nearly seventeen." I add.

"I can't let a teenager in on cases. I already get hell for allowing your father to be a consulting detective-"

"Investigative Analyst. Put Kier on then, I'll assist him. Legally he is an adult." I correct him with my title. Much more accurate than my fathers. He rolls his eyes. Kier's before me, his fingers running over my stomach.

"You're hurt, were are the medics!" He shouts. Shock, Kier rarely raises his voice. Our wounds are identical.

"You're hurt too." I point out, he blocks my vision with his ridiculously large body. Glare at him when Lestrade leaves because of his fretting.

"I jostled you when we where running. Are you okay?" He says. Always worrying about me. Slap his hands away. Go to Lestrade. Handsome tan flesh. Bright white teeth. Gray messy hair. Resist swooning.

"How did you know the murder would take place?" Lestrade asked on my approach, his gaze fixed on the scribbling he's doing in his notepad. His eyes flashing to Kier who is probably glaring behind me.

"We saw the goons down at a pier on the Thames. We happened to be passing by when they spoke of a body they where going to have to dispose of. No details, but they gestured to this building. We got caught listening, roughed up a bit. I calculated the general vicinity of where they where, and where the murderer would be able to give them a clear signal. Found the office and the body. Murderer came up from behind us." I detailed. Enough words? Lestrade seemed to get the gist of it and nodded.

"You're a brilliant girl, Scarlett." He sighed. I felt myself flush at his compliment.

"J-Jenny-" Scowl at the stutter. Ridiculous teenage hormones.

"She's still upset with you." Lestrade smiles at me. I swoon.

"I already apologized, what more does she want?" I blurt. Lestrade snorts.

"You'll have to talk to her about it." He says. Jenny, sweet, lovely Jenny. Looks like her father. Probably why I keep a 'friendship' with her. Lying to myself. I like her, enjoy her company. She thinks I'm weird, like her father. Laughs at me, but with endearment. Calls me brilliant when other people say I'm a freak.

"I didn't mean to miss it." I say. Her eighteenth birthday party. Kier went. Said it was fun. Last thing I want to do is get rubbed on my a lusty teenager. Should have went for her. Meant to. Got distracted by the mold growing in the sink. When I told her that she yelled at me. Maybe if I showed her the studies and reports I write on it she would forgive me?

"Can I go home with you?" I ask. A few officers turn, looking at us. Blink up at them. Lestrade blushes.

"Uh, sure. By why don't we get you fixed up first, let your parents know where you are." He says, nodding to my keeper. Kier's angry. He leads me to the ambulance. We side side by side as we get patched up. Kier needs stitches, mines minor. Won't even scar.

"You're mad at me." I say once the medic goes to ask for more sterile bandages from another ambulance. Kier's glaring straight ahead. Won't look at me. He's pissed.

"I'm not." He says, fumbles with the bandage. Hesitate. Lean over and nudge his shoulder with my cheek, rest it there. He stiffens before relaxing. He loves to be touched. Strange, I hate it. It calms him, makes him forgive me when I touch him.

"Don't think I'm forgiving you, cause' I'm not." He mutters. It's a lie though. Kier can't stay angry at me. Not sure why. I can not speak to him for weeks on end, but he can barely be angry at me unless I purposely get myself injured. Then he is livid.

"I apologize." I say. My right hand man. Some might say 'best friend'. I like his scent. Masculine. Something I've grown up with. Inhale. Soothing.

"We're going to Jenny's. I need to apologize to her, as well." I sigh, resting my head on his shoulder. Too much apologizing for my taste. The only two people other than my parents I will apologize too. Rarely Jenny, but always Kier.

"I can't. I've got a date." He says, his eyes flickering from mine for a moment. I sit up, scowling.

"You're lying. Why?" I ask. Dates aren't unusual for him. Tedious. I remember the tantrum I threw when he went on his first date when he was fifteen and I only twelve. None could get close to him. Said he was too closed off, too cold. Too unfeeling, distant. Yeah right, Kier was a pain in the ass with all his emotions.

"I'm not." He lied again. Brain works rapidly. Kier never lies to me. Why wouldn't he go with me to Jenny's? In pain? No, I'm hurt. Usually he'd come spend the night at the flat on 221B from even a scratch. Then why? Past references. Doesn't mind going to Jenny's. Only occasionally refuses. Connecting factor? Lestrade.

"You don't want to go because Lestrade will be there." I state. Should have realized it before. Berate myself for not paying attention. Kier scoffs, looks away from me.

"Once again Scarlett, you've got it all figured out." Angry again. Sigh. Annoying. Slide my hand into his. Shocked before relaxing. Loves the contact, practically melts from it. Still working out why he adores it so. His hand is much larger than mine, the texture rougher.

"Come with me." I say, my voice soft with playacting. He rolls his eyes, hearing it. Hard to trick Kier, knows me too well.

"Alright." He gives in.


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own BBC Sherlock

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><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

"Come home, now." John grits into my ear. I tap on my knee, my jeans are soiled with blood. Kier's long leg bumps mine. He's cramped in the back of the police car.

"Can't. Busy." I say curtly.

"Scarlett, you're are hurt. If you don't come home you're grounded for a week." He says. Almost say something hurtful. Make a comment on how he isn't my true father. Bit my tongue.

"I'm going to Jenny's, I have to apologize. I'll be home in an hour or two." I say.

"Scar-" I hang up. Should have mentioned Kier. John always likes to know Kier is with me. Makes him feel reassured.

"He's going to freak when he sees the stab wound and your ribs." Kier says coolly. He's looking out the window.

"Not if we stay at your apartment while I heal." I say. Kier doesn't have parents. Well of course he has them but he never speaks of them. An orphan. He had been living in shelters for the majority of his childhood. When he became of age, he moved out on his own.

"No way. John's still made at me for harboring you last time you went on a holiday." He sounds sure. But I could get him to bend to anything I desire. It's what makes our friendship work. We pull up the the familar house on the outskirts of London. I get out, holding my torn stomach.

"Hey freak!" Georgie calls, not yet seeing Kier. Trenton appears at his side, smirking. Twins, both with brown hair and their mother's green eyes. Idiots. Not an once of their's fathers intellect.

"You'd think two halves of a brain would make a whole." I comment. Trenton's eyes narrow. He grips my arm, pulling it. I gasp in pain, it was the one that had been pulled out of socket. Still tender.

"Don't touch her." A deep growl. Kier. Anger rolling off of him as he shadows over me. I walk passed the boys. Imbeciles. Sexist ones at that. Terrified of Kier, think I'm helpless. Dull. Don't even bother with them. Skip up the stairs. Find the door almost as familiar as my own. Open.

"Get out, dorks." Jenny calls. She looks up and sees me. A flash of a smile, quicklly vanishes when she realizes she is supposed to be still angry at me. Jenny is smart, not intelligent. She's actually rather dim, unless it's book work. I do adore her though. Beautiful girl. Large eyes, soft brown hair. Everything I'm not. Gentle, docile. Every feature screams femininity. I'm all harshness. Sharp cheekbones, dark hair, flashing eyes.

"Good to see you've nearly forgotten your anger." I say. Her eyes take in the blood. She stand, comes to me. Her hands over my wound.

"You're hurt." She gasps. Tears in her eyes. So soft. I hate hurting her. I give her a cocky grin. She's taller than me, slender like her father.

"Barely. Caught a murderer for your father today. Found a body in the ventilation system." I say. She nods, tries to toughen up.

"Of course, you're remarkable. Where's Kier?" She asks. I glare at the collage brochure on her desk. Both her and Kier are two years older than me. Graduation in a few months. Kier sill stay close to me. Jenny might leave.

"Downstairs, handling Tweedledum and Tweedledee." I answer. She leads me to her bed, uncaring of I stain her comforter. Chaos, calm, kindness. The three of us perfect balance for the other. But what if they don't need my disorder. The thought pains me, I switch my train of thought.

"I'm sorry. For missing your party." I clarify. Kier understands me if I use minimal amounts of words. Sometimes Jenny doesn't.

"I bought your party dress. You looked so cute in it." She huffed, pulling it from the closet. I glare at it. Dresses aren't really my area. I much prefer jeans and stealing either Kier or John's shirts. My father chooses to dress much to formally for my taste.

"Not my area." I comment. She laughs, her smile forcing one of my own. Really do enjoy her company. Hard not too, so sweet. Too much though and she starts to form cavities. Can't handle too much kindness.

"Where this instead of your stained clothes." She coaxes. She thinks I'm beautiful. Has loved dressing me up since I was a girl. Calls me her Princess. Think of her as my older annoying sister. Decline.

"I'd rather not." I sigh. Eyebrows scrunch.

"I'll forgive you if you do." She negotiates. Groan, slip out of my clothes and into the dress. Purple. Black ribbon on the waist. Not as tasteless as I like to pretend. Flares out a bit at my hips, ending halfway down my thigh. She pulls my hair from my ponytail. Trying to subconsciously hide my bruised arms.

"You look gorgeous." She gushes. Glance at myself in the mirror. Dull.

"I'm not going to school tomorrow." I say. She glares at me suddenly, frowning is disapproval. She hates when I skip school.

"Why not." She demands.

"Another case-"

"You're schoolwork is more important than chasing criminals around London!" She scolds. Almost John's identical words. Miss him suddenly. Want to go home.

"Not nearly. I don't see how home economics will save someones life." I comment. She gives in, knowing she can't argue with me. Turning in a huff she drops to her desk. I reach down for my clothes and she kicks them under her bed. Ribs hurt too much to retrieve them.

"I'm going." I say. She ignores me. Fine. I leave, Kier coming down the hallway. He stops short when he sees the dress.

"Nice ensemble." Kier says sarcastically. Shove him against the wall as I pass, he laughs. We have down a cab, going home.

* * *

><p>"You look like actress starring in a prom themed horror movie." My father says looking up from his book when I shuffle in. The wound started bleeding again when me and Kier got in a row in the car. He ripped the bottom of the dress, and there was blood from both of our wounds when he entered.<p>

"I solved a case." I said, sliding on the couch beside him. Daddy issues. He didn't give me enough attention growing up. Or so my school therapist said. I'd burned the files before Mycroft could get a hold of them. He flipped a page in the book.

"A murder in an office near the Thames. Weapon was a knife, and the victim was found in a vent." He said, not even looking up. I glared at my feet, lifting them to the couch to rest my chin on my knees.

"How'd you figure it out?" Kier asked, impressed. I liked to be the one to dazzle him. But of course my father was far cleverer.

"Mud on your shoes, Thames. Obvious. No rain for the last couple of days. Both of you have identical wounds. Something that couldn't be easily blocked. You would have been able to knock it out of his hand the first time if it was just an accidental weapon. Not a gun, since you're able to walk. Knife then. Scarlett has a bit of ventilation dust on her head from where she found the body." Sherlock explained. I glared at my toes, wiggling them.

"You went to Lestrade's afterwards?" He asked. He already knew, why did he ask. Stupid. Glare at my feet.

"Yeah, uh. Scarlett went to apologize to Jenny."

"Hmm."

"Scarlett!" John came up the stairs. His anger vanished when he saw me. He nearly picks me up, clearing the table to examine me. Setting me on the ledge like he used to do while he cooked and I watched.

"I'm fine, John." I say. My fathers turn to be jealous. He wants all of John's attention. John adores me, fawns over me. I use it to my advantage.

"No. No you're not." He's upset. His brow furrowed, the wrinkles in his face deepening. My John. I love him so. Worry. Hate making him worry, but I can't help it. Handsome man for his age, plain but handsome. Moves my hair aside, lingering in it. He loves my hair. He groans when he sees the bruising on my arms.

"Christ, Scarlett." He's frantic now. Kier's sitting beside my father, watching me with his serious brown eyes. Probably reading my every emotion. Kier reads me well. Exasperating.

"John." I say more tenderly than I mean too. I reach up, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to steady him. Solid, square shoulders. Strong solider John. Both men on the couch tense up. I hug John, and he returns it.

"You're going to kill me, I can barely handle Sherlock." He says, meaning to display his concern over me. It stings though. Forever in my fathers shadow. I'm constantly reminded how my father provides enough discord in London, I'm excessive. Unnecessary. Trivial.

"I'll try to be more careful." I say, looking away so Kier can't see my face.

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><p>I hated school. Hated waking up at a scheduled time. Hated having to wait in line, wait to get into the class, wait for the class to start. Wait. Wait. Wait. Nothing of value was taught. Should have done my studies rapidly so I could have graduated early with Jenny and Kier. But I didn't. More concerned with cases.<p>

"Miss Holmes, the answer?" Look up, glance at the problem on the board. Calculate.

"The derivative of _ƒ_ is defined to be _ƒ_ itself and (_x_ − _a_)0 and 0 are both defined to be 1." I answered. Check. Recheck. I'm right. Teacher looks confused. Why? Glances back at board in shock.

"Scarlett that equation was supposed be answered for the science fair." My teacher said. Still hadn't learned his name, despite it being the end of the year. Make a noise in the back of my throat.

"What a loser." A girl snickers. Ignore. Think. Jenny called John. Told him about my plan to skip school. Traitor. He brought me to school, using threats. Could leave. Don't want John to be upset though. Best to stick it out. Besides, I need Kier. He's almost about to graduate, won't leave school.

"Hey, why are you such a nerd?" Someone asks. Talking to me? Most likely. Why am I nerd? Hmm, interesting theory. I suppose I'm more intellectual than the average teenager. But why am I like that? Natural sated lust for knowledge? Most likely being raised in a household where intelligence was valued above everything. You're only as important as your mind.

"Are you ignoring me?" The catty girl asks. Isn't it obvious? Should I comment that her tampon has bleed through and is staining the front of her tiny jean skirt? No, that would involve observing which demands intellect, which would therefore make me a nerd. Best not. Smirk.

"Hey!" She moves to shove me. Shift my body slightly out of her way and she is sent sprawling on the the floor. Everyone looks up.

"What did you do?"

"She hit her!"

"What a bitch!

"Are you okay, Veronica?"

I sit there silently as they make accusations. Is this a witch hunt? It's so obvious she fell off the unstable stool she'd been perched on with her crossed legs. She's flailed and hadn't been able to catch her herself in time. Her nose was bleeding profusely. Had I hit her, she would have fallen on her back, not having enough time to twist around and lay flattened on the floor.

"Go to the office!" The teacher shouts. I don't. I wave down a cab and go home.

* * *

><p>"You hit a girl hard enough to break her nose?" John demanded. Sherlock looks up, his eyes scanning my body.<p>

"Dominant arm still healing from being dislocation. Knuckles clean of any lacerations. Terribly deduction, John. I've thought you've learned more in the years living with me." Sherlock stated. New my entire story even before I could tell him. Bastard. John has the humility to look embarrassed.

"Then why didn't you say so, why not fight back?" John demanded. So keen on justice.

"Much more information can be gathered by allowing people to make their own assumptions. Tends to show what people really think about you, as you've just demonstrated." My father's lips twisted up in amusement. He approves. Feel myself puff up a bit before quickly deflating. Hate how much I adore him.

"That's not fair," He said pointing his finger at me and tilting his head down to glare at me from under his sandy eyebrows. Heavy footfalls on the stairs. Kier.

"That's ridiculous. Like you could ever punch anybody hard enough to break their nose. You have fist like a kittens." Kier flashes me a mild smile. Always on my side. Loyalty is one of his better qualities.

"And your retorts are not nearly as funny as your receding hair line." I quip. Kier's hand goes subconsciously to his hair. His hairline would recede maybe a half an inch, but no more. Much to my annoyance. John was trying desperately to hide his laughter.

"I'm suspended for five days." I say, the laughter dies instantly.

"We're going to talk to your principal. I won't stand for you being punished without reason." John says, taking my hand. I pull away.

"I can't, I have a case. Schools interrupted enough-"

"Sherlock, talk some sense into her!" John demands. He's furious. Unable to even scold me properly. Dull.

"Do as John says." Sherlock mutters, he's much more fascinated with some mold that's grown on the edge of the book. I blink rapidly trying to stay focused. That is interesting, never seen that growth before.

"We're going, now. Before they write you up." John says, taking my hand again. Kier is saying something.

"Zygomycota?" I ask aloud, stopping Kier mid sentence. Strange coloration.

"Deuteromycota." Sherlock corrects. Kier and John are baffled about what we are communicating over.

"Fascinating." We breathe at the same time, looking up at each other. I go to my father, examining the book as he hands it to me.

"Oh bloody hell, they're going on about the mold." John groans to Kier. Ignore. Zone in on the spores. Need a microscope. Me and my father move at the same time, having the same thought. I find it interesting how similar we are, so does he. We've both done separate experiments and compared our results. Genetics, we concluded.

"Scarlett, now." John calls, dragging me from my mind. Shake my head, clearing the brilliant shining light that always happens when I'm thinking intensely. Everything gets vivid and blinding, everything matters.

"I'll get it prepared." Sherlock says to me. I nod, following John out sulkily.

* * *

><p>"I'd like to hear Scarlett's story now. How come you didn't say anything when I asked you if you did it?" The principal asked. A balding old man. Liver spots on his head; fourteen to be exact, used the window behind him to get the ones I couldn't see by using the reflection. Tired of teenagers. Desperately needs to retire. He's a widow. Jumps the gun too quickly. Angry. Tries to be fair.<p>

"You already made your decision." I say, John's sitting beside me. Blonde hair mixed with gray. Most of those gray hairs are from me. His lips pursed, glances at my feet.

"Put on your shoes." He says under his breath. Ignore him. Hate shoes. So confining. Kier's waiting in the hallway, being seduced by a girl. Probably staring at her with his usual bored gaze. Hands shoved in his pockets. Stance casual.

"I'm busy." I murmur at the exact moment he repeats them muffled from behind the door. Smirk. Yes, loyalty is most definitely one of his better features.

"Miss Holmes. Please, give me some indication that you care." The Principal is upset. Wants me to acknowledge him. Grovel. Beg to be allowed to return to this insulting excuse for an establishment for learning. It's private, highly regarded. Uniforms even, as if articles of clothes are the definer of a good school or not. Mycroft made sure Jenny and I were accepted. Not sure how Kier managed it. Curious. Must remember to ask. He's very mysterious.

"To be honest," John clears his throat. Warning.

"Being allowed a five day holiday from this pitiful excuse of a learning institution would be a relief. To call your teaching methods inadequate is putting it lightly. I've seen better-"

"Scarlett, please." John weary. He's rubbing his face, looks tired. Tired of me, tired of my mouth. Not in the literal sense of course, but the words that come from it. The principal is red and looks ready to burst. Feel a stab of regret, I don't like when my John looks like that. Duck my head in shame.

"I'm sorry. She's just-" John gives up.

"I've never been so insulted before in my life! And from a student!" The man splutters. Mundane. Must find a source of entertainment while John soothes him. John's good at fixing what me and my father break. Tune back in to Kier, still trying to shake the girl.

"Look, I'm already interested in someone else." Jenny probably. His interest in her was obvious when we where younger. Seems to have diminished some, but then again he might have just gotten better at hiding it.

"Scarlett's having a hard time adapting. She's a very smart girl-" Then again, could just be I've stopped paying attention. Romantic relationships are something I have very little interest in. Not really my area. Unless of course they involve Lestrade. Rugged handsome features. Smart, but not enough to compare with me. What he lacks in youth he makes up with wisdom. I sigh.

"Right Scarlett?" John asks. Hmm?

"Yes." I agree, quick nod. John turns back to the much calmer principal. Almost got kicked out. Should try again. Glance at John. Tired. No. Best not.

* * *

><p>"The spores are shaped oddly." I comment. We might have discovered a new fungi. Kier and John are watching football. So pedestrian.<p>

"Might be a malformation." My father says. Think of myself. Male gender is generally thought of as the dominant race. More intelligent, stronger, powerful. My father is also older, wiser. I'm a child, by nature naive. So what am I? A malformation. A less effective version of himself. Simmered down. Weaker. A failed experiment.

"What's wrong?" My father asks. His voice barely a whisper. Kier and John will never be able to hear it over the telly.

"Nothing." I answer. Too fast. Wince. He looks up at me. Identical eyes, only a fraction less feminine. Urges with me with those eyes.

"You don't care." I blurt before thinking. My father looks shocked, wasn't expecting that. Not from his derivative. I'm not allowed feelings. I'm not worth them. God, when I had I become so angst ridden. Need to divorce myself from foolish thoughts. Get over it. Teen hormones.

"I do." He says strongly. My turn to be shocked. No faking. He's serious. Feel my cheeks heat up. Hate blushing. It happens more than necessary, which should be never. Pitiful.

"I'm okay." I say. He studies my face. I look down at the mold between us.


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own BBC Sherlock

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

Sweat drips down my temple. Breath heavy. Narrow pale brown eyes staring at me. Licking his lips before smirking. Jab at his ribs, duck under his swiping arms. Locks arm around my waist, throws me to the ground with as little force needed. Wraps his arms around me, almost as if were embracing. Struggle violently.

"Forfeit." He says it without emotion. Something he's good at. Snarl against him. I can feel his breath in my ear.

"Fuck you." I snap. I don't usual resort to cursing. I don't like the way it sounds. I spasm violently against him. Can feel my face burning. I hate him. Hate how much stronger he is than me. How he is just permitted authority not from intellect but from his build. He doesn't have to work at it, it's handed to him.

"Relax." He says, his hold on me solid. Never taunting. Teasing sometimes, but never cruel. Kier is kind to me. Thinks I'm broken.

"Let go." I say, frustrated. I'm calmer now, less hostile. He doesn't want to let me go. I can tell when his arms tighten a bit at my words.

"I'm scared to. You might never come back." He says it so softly I think I might be mistaken. Sometimes words like these slip from his mouth. I remember one time we where sitting on the ledge of the bridge, looking down at the river below. He looked at me. I think at the time he'd been sixteen and I only fourteen.

_"I'm terrified of you."_ He had said. I hadn't understood and laughed at him. I remember crying that night when I was alone.

"What are you talking about?" I swallow thickly. I don't understand. I hate not comprehending. Wince as his knuckles brush my hip. Don't like being touched. Usually I don't mind Keir touching me, but right now it feels strange. Stomach's tingling.

"One day you might run off and forget all about me." He says this into my neck. We are on the gym mat, in the empty gymnasium at school. Kicking boxing is something we both have an interest in. Kier likes sports. I'm drenched in sweat, and so it he. I feel his muscles on my back. Strong and slick.

"Don't be ridiculous." Kier's my Watson. Not in the romantic sense of course. But he is my right hand man. Without him I wouldn't be able to complete half the cases I do. Whether it be intimidation, strength, or height I need him. He's my other half. Doesn't he know that even a day being separated from him brings about anxiety?

"I-" He doesn't finish the sentence. Just lifts me off the floor. We stand, my back still pressed to his chest. His arms encircling me. I feel small. Smaller than normal. Annoying. But true. Our height difference is substantial. Petite to his massive. Weak to his strong.

"I'm taking a shower." I say, pulling his arms away from my waist and going to the locker room.

* * *

><p>St. Bart's lab. The equipment is superior to the one in our high school chemistry lab. I make sure not to coincide with my fathers schedule. We don't play well when he have to share a work space. I'm sitting at a microscope, examining an insects leg.<p>

"Hey." A boy says. Causing me to jump. Didn't realize he'd come in. He's spoken to me before. Glance him up and down. Handsome. Thinks himself to be more than he is. Used to getting his way. College student. Pre-med judging by the scrubs. Carrying two coffees. I check my cell phone.

"I'm using the lab." I say, not looking up from my phone. Text message from Kier. Hate texting. Would much rather call and get it over swiftly than having to take too much of my time typing it out. Like ripping off a band aid. Kier is on his way, in the building. Good. He can get rid of the nuisance.

"Your name is Scarlett, right? I've heard about you." He mentions. Flip open cell phone, glance at time. Only one minute. Feels like he's been in here for half an hour. So _dull_.

"I'm working." I say. He laughs, nudging me. I shrink back. Hate being touched. Kier can, or my parents. Jenny is very touchy. Don't mind them, but this man. Feel my fists clench.

"You're in high school, right? You should be having fun." He informs. I look up. Having fun? I suppose some would think working boring. I find it much more enjoyable than what other teens choose to do with their spare time.

"I don't like partying." I say. He's about to ask me. His eyes widen.

"How did you know?" He asks, impressed. Feel a slight spark of gratitude.

"I saw you asking your friend for money to buy alcohol." I mutter. Glance at phone. Kier's long strides should have carried him three minutes ago. What's taking so long. Boy takes a sip of his coffee, realizing he has failed to yet offer me the other.

"I bought you coffee." He says. I purse my lips, opening my mouth to speak.

"She doesn't drink coffee." Kier says. I relax instantly. Stick out my hand and the hot chocolate it placed there firmly.

"Only drinks hot chocolate." He smirks, ruffling my hair. Glare at him, sip the warm drink. Hate coffee. Too bitter. Much prefer sweets. The young man is not nearly as smiley now. He is sticking out his chest.

"You her boyfriend?" He asks. Atrocious annunciation.

"No." We answer at the same time. Me firmly, Kier blurting. Slide my gaze to him, he's scowling. Rare for people to mistake us as a couple. Caught him by shock. Didn't think he would react so severely. Ignore them both.

"So you're single?" The boy's voice takes on a strange tone. Ignore him. Kier can handle it.

"No." Kier practically spits. Violent reaction. Kier is protective. Annoyingly so. As long as he gets the boy away from me he could say I'm a purple elephant with wings and a tiara.

"I'm married to my work." I say when it becomes awkwardly silent behind me. The boy slides beside my microscope. Slimy grin in place.

"Playing hard to get, that's hot." Anger instantly. Tilt my head, and inhale sharply. Try to reign in temper. Kier's smirking, sitting down with his legs propped up on the lab table now. It's has becoming my problem.

"You think my blatant disregard for you is an attempt to further your pursuits of me romantically." I say, turning to him completely. He leans back, smiling.

"I don't mind chasing you a bit." He announces. I pluck off the top of my drink.

"Is that right? Then let me make it perfectly clear how much I _long_ for your attentions." I purr, using my most falsely seductive voice. I suppose it's not made apparent I'm being sarcastic because the boy is grinning widely. I dump the coffee over his head.

"I loathe coffee." I grunt. Tossing the cup at his spluttering face. It drips down to stain his scrubs and his hair flattens on his drenched face.

"You bitch!" He snaps. Kier hauls him off when he makes a lunge for me.

* * *

><p>I run up the stairs, out of breath from excitement. I'm drumming with pleasure. I nearly skip on my way to Kier's apartment. Pulling out my key I yank it open. His pants are half way pulled up, his frowns at me.<p>

"You should knock." He says, his face without emotion. My bright smile falters.

"Why are you dressing up? We have a case." I say, he scoffs.

"I have a date, I'm not going." He says. I drop onto his couch, kicking my feet on his coffee table. Small apartment, only a couch, TV, and cot. Kitchen has a tiny stove and mini fridge. Kier looks nice in the suits. Fits his long limbs nicely. How'd he afford that?

"You're coming." I say, reaching forward and plucking a piece of fruit from the bowel on the table. I nibble on the apple.

"I'm busy tonight. Find someone else to be your ladder." Bitter. Angry. Why? Never minded being my ladder before. Something happened. Have to fix it.

"You're not just my ladder," I stand. I help him fix his tie. He looks down at me, his hands stilling, hovering over mine.

"You lift big boxes too." I smile. He laughs and shakes his head. I like his laugh. It's deep and soft, not loud an obnoxious like some people. He never laughs unless he finds something truly amusing.

"You're a handful." He says, touching my hair. Like John he seems mesmerized by it. His calloused fingers stroke through the long wavy strands. Feels strangely nice. Interesting.

"Don't go." I murmur. I don't want him to go. Hate his stupid, tedious dates. Silly girls who gush over him, giggling. We have much more fun arguing and wrestling. He leans forward and I lean up, our foreheads rest against each other. An act we've done since children. A bond. My Kier.

"Okay." He whispers.

* * *

><p>"Dear God, you are an <em>idiot<em>!" I seethe. Broken forearm.

"Sorry." He grunts in pain. Cradling the wounded appendage to his broad chest. Moron! Fool! I want to hurl insults at him. If he'd let me take the blow to the chest I might have a bruised rib, maybe a crack. But no. He had to go all 'hero' and block it with his forearm. It shattered. I could see the bones jutting out beneath his skin. We sat crouched behind gravestone.

"Stay here, I'll chase them down." I call, pulling out the phone. Lestrade. Even I can't bring down four men. Underestimated the severity of this case. Thought it was only one genius man. Dull. Turned out to be a group of mildly intelligent men. Makes the whole case much less intriguing. Kieran got hurt for nothing.

"The hell you are." He snaps. Voice colder than the chilly air. He grips my arm. First instinct to resist. Don't want to hurt him more. Knowing him, he'd hold on. I lean back against the stone, lifting my head to the sky. I pull out my phone.

"Lestrade. Yes, the cemetery on the outskirts of London. Group of men responsible for all the bodies floating down the river. They where able to sneak into cemetery by working the night shift as grave diggers. Smuggled them out in gardening vans. Kier is hurt. Bring an ambulance. Hurry." I say quickly. Not even in the mood for Lestrade. Annoyed beyond belief that Kier is hurt.

"I should have left you there, withering on the ground until they sent you floating down the river too." I spat. So angry. Kier is always a good punching bag. He doesn't mind.

"Yeah, well you didn't." He's in pain. I shift against his good side. Offering him my warmth. I curl against him, using my body to shield him from the wind. He relaxes instantly. Like he's freezing and I'm the blanket.

"Don't fall asleep." He might have a minor concussion. Got knocked in the head by a stray shovel handle when we where making our getaway.

"I won't." His voice weary. He's staring at me, I can see from my peripheral vision. Ignore it. Need to think. Wrap and arm around Kier's muscled arm. Think.

"It wasn't random." I say aloud. Always helps to bounce ideas off of a wall. In my case the wall happens to be a young man, just as thick though. Numbers. Glance at a grave in front of us. I'm thinking of numbers. Why? Was I thinking out loud. Don't bother asking. Tedious.

"Hmm." Kier's not paying attention. Nuzzling into the top of my heart. Keep track of his heartbeat subconsciously to make sure he doesn't doze off. His pulse is strangely quick, must be in more pain than I thought.

"I need to get a look in that grave. They left it barely covered, still looking for us. Took too long to start digging. They're doing something down there. I need to see what." I say, settling on my knees. Kier comes out of his daze to look at me. Long legs sprawled before us.

"What?" He asks. I jump back, away from his long arms.

"Stay here, stay quiet. I'll be right back." I slip behind the gravestones. Finally able to appreciate my small stature, easier to hide. Flashlights swing beneath my sneaker and I jump back, ducking behind stone.

"Did you hear something?" A man's deep voice asks. Not sharp, and clear like Kier's. Sounds dull, stupid, unintelligent.

"Nope." Another answers. Dart passed them when a gust of wind picks up, rattling branches and twigs. Jog down the small hill to the grave site, abandoned and only half full. Jump into it. Pick up shovel and rapidly off clear the dirt. Curse as I miss the ledge and sent a wave of it over me, clumping in my hair and dark clothes. Lovely. Use the edge of the shovel when I come to the edge of the capsule. Pry it open. Blink.

"Oh, beautiful." I breathe, dropping to my knees. Underground trade. Lestrade had just been complaining how criminals where somehow able to transfer files, money, and jewels where no one could see them. It had been nagging me. Here it was. They used the empty coffins to store the treasure. Not having anywhere to put the body they tossed it in the river. _So bloody obvious._ Numbers. Numbers! I saw numbers in Lestrade's office. Peer up at headstone. Rather than accidentally stumbling upon a grave with the same name they used dates and initials. Codes! When they received payment they gave the buyer the code for the tomb. Brilliant!

"Hey!" A shout above me. I try scrambling out of the coffin. A man shoves me back in, aiming a gun at me. I tremble. My mind it working on three separate strategies. I can duck down into the grave, hide in the coffin. I'm small enough to curl one spot. Most likely he will shoot the center first then go to the edges. Or I could use the shovel to slam against his feet. Also can throw dirt in his face. Act. Act! _Do something_!

Boom! The man tumbles into the grave beside me. Most likely dead. Angry blue eyes. Father.

"Figured it out before me. I'm impressed." He says it in a way that sounds very unimpressed. I'm grinning from ear to ear as he helps me out.

"The numbers-"

"The numbers where the dates inscribed on the headstone. Yes, I've observed." Sherlock's furious. This was a huge case. I'd solved it before my Dad. Me! I feel giddy. Wringing my hands together. Preparing to brag. A gunshot. My eyes widen. My heart picking up before my mind can catch up. Kieran. I run, ignoring my fathers screams. I race over the graves. The moonlight creates a dim path.

_Kieran_! The man is standing over him, gun in hand. Blood. Can't see him, gravestone blocking my view. Only his shoulder. Oh God. _Oh God. _I'm screaming. Realize I took my fathers gun, hadn't noticed. Shoot the man, kill him. Lays dead. Him and Kierans blood mixing. Shake as I come around the stone to see the damage.

"Kieran." I breathe, dropping to his side with a whimper. Shot on the chest. Ironic, it's nearly exactly where John was shot. Bastard had been aiming at his heart, just a millimeter above the pumping organ. His breath is ragged. Stick my finger into the wound, he cries out. Can feel his heart flutter against my fingers.

"My hero." He grins, teeth bloody. Internal bleeding. Sirens. Ambulance. Feel my shoulders slump. Relief.

"To the rescue." I say, brushing his damp hair from his forehead. His labored breathing is increasing. Grits his teeth, but I can feel his heart beneath my fingers. It's fading, but still there.

"Kieran." I call his name and it stutters awake. Pumping strongly. I hold him, my free hand stroking the nape of his neck.

"You're gonna be okay." I declare. He nods, resting his forehead against mine.

* * *

><p>The bullet grazed his heart. Barely. It would heal. Didn't even need surgery. Just had to stitch up the ugly wound that healed like a spiders web over his heart. Mine. I touched it. I felt his life beneath my finger tips. He belonged to me. I rested my cheek against his strong thigh. He was sleeping. The drugs they'd given him had knocked out his massive form. He lay still on the hospital bed. So still.<p>

"Boring." I declared. He shifted in his sleep. Nuzzle his thigh. I'd been crying on the way to the hospital. Not nearly as humiliated as I should have been. Angry sobs had wracked my body as they took him to the ER to get him stable. He'd called my name. Over and over.

_'Scarlett. Scarlett. Scarlett.'_ Just like the color dripping from his tan chest. I wake up realizing someone has their knuckles brushing my forehead. Look up, Kier is smiling lazily at me.

"We solved a case that took down the biggest crime ring in London." I informed. He smiled at me endearingly.

"S'that right?" His words slurred a bit. His eyes don't look as keen as usual. The medicine has put him in a stupor.

"Yes." I reply, his fingers touch my neck. Usually I'd get a sour look, but I allow him the touch. I'd been scared. I want to assure myself he is okay. I climb on the bed beside him, easily slotting myself against his side. The cast on his arm is uncomfortable on my back. I've already filled it with scribbles. Mostly insults at Kieran for going and getting himself shot.

"You love me." His voice his too loose. He usually keeps a tight reign on his feelings, his words. Feel like I'm not supposed to hear him talk. Taking advantage of him. Still curious though.

"I suppose so." I answer. I didn't believe in 'love' in the romantic sense. Humans just weren't meant to be life partners. Didn't make sense, went against the laws of human procreation. But I did know I loved my father. I loved John, and Jenny, and of course I loved Kier. So yes, in a family sense I suppose I did.

"Say it." Kier's pouting. Looks strange on such an adult chiseled face. Remotely realize he's not wearing his usual baseball cap. Plain blue and white, nothing special. Gave it to him when we where kids. Wears the damn thing whenever we are outside of school. Must have lost it in the grave. Need to have Lestrade retrieve it.

"I love you." I say. His lips are suddenly burning against mine. I freeze. Not the first time Kier's kissed me. Only boy to ever do so. Kissed me when we were kids twice. I was only in fourth grade the first time. He'd said it was because I was crying. Second time I was twelve. It had been a peck, just a press of lips but I'd been angry. I'd hit him, told him to never do it again. He promised not to. Liar.

"Mphf!" I gasp against his lips. His cast is working as a bar against my lower back, pulling me to his chest crushingly. Squirm, paw at his side. Don't want to tug at the stitches. Frantic kissing. Lips wet and hot on my own. Feels strange in my stomach. Can't breath. Feel black spots littering my vision when he pulls away. I inhale a great breath of air.

"You basta-" He slides his hand over the back of my head, forcing another kiss. This one is softer, more careful. Lips a caress over my bruised ones. Knot fingers in his hair, trying to pull him back. He refuses, his tongue sliding over mine. I cry out, falling off the bed I pull away so hard. My entire body is tingling. He's looking dazedly at the ceiling.

"Wow." He hums in bliss. His eyes flicker close and within a few seconds he snoring. I fumble my hands to my mouth, still burning from his searing kisses. Glaring at the floor I drop with a huff back into my seat, thinking of the last few moments on repeat. I'll kill him when he wakes up.


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own BBC Sherlock

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

The room spins rapidly. Edges blurring together. I'm trying to hold in my giggles. Don't want to wake Kier.

"For someone so smart you are one of the most immature people I know." Kier croaks from the bed. I place my hands on the wheelchair's brakes to freeze myself.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, rolling to his bedside. His forehead looks damp, and his eyes sunken in from blood loss.

"Fine." He lies. He's in excruciating pain. I don't hold his hand, even though I want to. Still angry. My concerm outweighs my anger though.

"You're going to have to stay here for another week." I say, glancing out the window. He's staring at me too intently.

"You stayed." He says in the silent room. The beeping the machine monitoring his heart is steady. I flinch slightly. Does he think I'd leave him when he is injured? Am I such a terrible person. Anyone else I would probably. Not Kier. Never Kier.

"Obviously." I say, dropping my head to let my hair fall over my face. He reaches for my face and I stand, moving away from him. Still upset over the kiss. Don't think he remembers. See the flash of pain on his face. Guilt stabs me.

"I'm going to get us food, what do you want?" I ask. He wants to say something. Does he remember the kiss? No. He was out of it. Can't blame him for being high on morphine. Sit near his hip on the bed. His large hand instantly goes to my knee. Allowed it.

"Chinese food." He says. Our favorite. Nod, try to move away. He holds tight. Look up at him. His calm face his hiding something. What?

"I'll be right back." I say. Getting up and leaving him.

* * *

><p>When I return with the bags of food I have to smuggle them in. I open his door and am shocked when it's locked.<p>

"Kier!" I yell, slamming my fist against it. Panic momentarily. Voices inside. Calm a bit. Who? Kier has no family. John and Sherlock already stopped by earlier in the evening. The door opens. A large man exits. My lips fall open. Broad shoulders. Blonde hair, pale brown eyes. Massive, tall. Thick muscles on his arms and back. A solider. Fingers calloused. Chiseled jawline. The man barely lets his eyes land on me. Hard gaze, just like Kier. Stoic face. Thick eyebrows. Kier's father. No doubt. The man strides quickly down the hall, long legs. Rip open the door, dropping the food on the night stand.

"You said you didn't have a father. You lied to me, you said you were an orphan." My voice is dripping malice. Hate being duped. Lied too. Kier's looking away.

"He just came to see if I was alive-" Kier's lying. Feel my stomach knot. Fury. Kier never lies too me. Eyes burning. Tears?

"You lied to me!" Kier can hear it in my voice. Hate how well he reads me.

"Scarlett." He tries. Stumble back like he's slapped me.

"Tell me the truth." My voice is shaking along with my body. Kier's face is calm. Hate the self control he has.

"I don't know who my mother is. He raised me for the first couple years of my life but then left me. Gave me over to an orphanage. Haven't seen him since today. I swear." He was telling the truth. Feel myself nod, looking away.

"You look just like him." I say after a moment of silence. Kier's still only a teenager. But in a few years he'll fill out even more and look like that.

* * *

><p>"Alright, I got you." I say, sliding my arm across his back. Can barely reach around him. Too large. He grunts in pain. His arm heavy on my shoulder. His legs are unstable for a moment and we nearly slide to the floor. I'm laughing and so is he.<p>

"You're going to crush me!" I shout, he's laughing that deep rumble of a laugh. He steadies and we rise again from a crouch.

"Fuck," He crushes, pressing a hand to his heart. I hold him tighter as he takes his first step in the last month.

"Shouldn't we be doing this with a doctor around?" He asks. I scoff.

"John was here a little bit ago." I comment. He snorts. We walk slowly around the room. It's been awhile since I've been so close to him. Feels nice. Forgot how warm he was.

"God, you're heavy." I mumble. It's so quiet in the room. We can hear the breeze outside. The room is shaded, soft light shining through.

"Sorry." He apologizes. I don't look up, but I feel his gaze on me. Wonder for a moment how many tiles are in the room. Calculate quickly. Length times width.

"245." I mumble.

"The tiles." He chuckles. I look up at him in shock. He smiles at me.

"You like counting things. I saw you looking." He clarifies.

"Excellent deduction." He smiles wider. Silence again. Bird passes by chirping. My hand slides down to his slender hip. His body is like it was carved from statue. He looks like he should be covered in marble rather than hobbling around in a hospital gown.

"Let's go to the roof." I say, dragging over the wheel chair I'd stolen a few days ago. He eases into it and it creaks under his weight. I start rolling him from the room and groan.

"Christ, are you pure muscle?" I grunt, he laughs. We roll passed the doctors and nurses. They don't even bother to ask us. Going up to elevator we go to the highest floor before abandoning his wheelchair at the bottom of the stairs. The air feels great up here. The sun beats down on us. We go and sit on the ledge.

* * *

><p>I love piano. Love the way the keys obey my every motion as soon as I touch them. The tunes floating int he air around me. The school is empty. My and Kier broke in after dark. Isn't the first time. We're in the music auditorium. Kier's sitting in the front row before the stage. I'm playing one of his favorite songs. He doesn't know any classical composers or even the names of the pieces I play for him. His favorite was Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Cliche, but still terribly beautiful.<p>

The music was surrounding. On the stage I felt alone. But knowing Kier was there, watching me was comforting. I played it for him. Putting in all the emotions I didn't know how to convey. He sat in the audience. The only one. I was nearing the end when I stopped abruptly. Kier looked like he was snapping out of a daze.

"What's wrong?" He asked, taking the stairs three at a time to reach me. I shushed him, listening. Another clatter from the hallway. Jumping up I scrambled to turn off the lights. I gripped Kier, shoving him behind the curtain with me.

"Someone's coming." I whisper. I peek into the darkness from behind the massive velvet curtain. Lights flicker on.

"We're gonna get caught!" A teenager sobs. A lanky boy I have in one of my classes. Another boy is with him.

"Shut up! Someone might here you." The other boy I don't recognize. They shut the door from the hallway. Turning off the lights again.

"Shh." One boy tells the other. The lanky one. I believe his name is Fred. They dart into the hallway again, assuming they had been hiding from a passing janitor.

"Let's go." I say, running down the aisles. Kier's right behind me. What are they planning? I spot the boys peeking around a corner in the hallway, before going down towards the office. We follow.

"They're stealing the answers for the testing." I confide in Kier. He nods, his voice too deep to speak at times like these. Even whispering it carries too well. We slink behind the boys. They break into the office surprisingly well. Oh I see, stole the janitors key. Clever. Much more clever than I gave them credit for. Follow behind them. They're almost in the principals office. Take out Kier's phone. They're both crouched down in front of the office, trying to pick the lock. I snap a picture. The noise it makes causes me to squeak. Both boys turn around.

"Run!" I yell. The boys turn around and chase us.

"Why didn't you tell me your phone make a stupid little 'click' noise!" I scream.

"You didn't ask!" Kier snaps.

* * *

><p>A brilliant murderer. One of the best yet. Lestrade's been trying to keep the case from me and my father. But it's gone public. Thief of the century. Broke into the royal palace for God's sake. Won't say what he stole. Single person somehow managing to break into the most secure places in Britain. I'm fascinated, watching the TV screen.<p>

_"Some are comparing these robberies to the Moriarty Scandal which happened twenty years ago. But it seems this time around, that the thief doesn't plan on getting caught."_ The reporter chirped.

"Moriarty?" I say when both John and Sherlock stiffen. Eye them. I've heard of Jim Moriarty a couple of times at school. Some big thief when my parents where younger. Of course my father would have been involved.

"Just a criminal." My father says bleakly. Hiding something. Narrow my eyes. John's uncomfortable. Both are hiding it, why?

"Tell me more." I say. My father looks up, a frown on his face.

"It's not important." He's lying! Oh my, how delightful. Something they don't want me to know about. I smirk.

"Alright." I say. Both can hear it in my voice. They look up, scolding. I jog to my room, flipping open my laptop.

* * *

><p>"These crimes are almost identical to Moriarty's. He's broken into the palace, stealing god knows what. He's stolen Van Gogh's <em>Starry Night<em> for Christs sake. What's he going to hit next?" I demand. Kier's working, it's annoying that he has to earn money. I'm currently perched on Lestrade's desk, displaying the files to him. He's rubbing his forehead.

"I can see the connections, but there is no way too know for sure-"

"Lestrade, will you look! It's right under your nose!" I snap. Lestrade sighs, picking up his mobile that rings.

"Hello, what? I'm on my way!" He shouts, he yanks on his jacket. The officers are in a disarray outside of his office.

"What's going on?" I demand.

"Someone's blow a bloody sign in the London bridge!" He cries. I race after him, jumping into his police car. Donovan takes the passenger seat. I pull out my phone.

"Kier! Someone's blown up the London bridge!" My voice is trembling from excitement. Who is this thief? Moriarty it has to be. No one else could have these connections. Forget I have the phone pressed to my ear when Kier speaks.

"I know, I'm on my way." He answers. I hang up, sirens are almost too loud to hear. Feel adrenaline pumping in my veins.

* * *

><p>"You can't come, Scarlett." Lestrade yells over the chopper's loud blades swirling overhead. I glare at him, climbing it. He rolls his eyes but helps me. I've never ridden in helicopter before. A helmet's placed over my head. The ground suddenly vanishes as we're lifted into the air.<p>

"What's it say?" Lestrade asked. It was hard to make it out from all the smoke. Already news helicopters where circling around, sending the shot to millions of people. Singed onto the road of the bridge was clear. The black was burning, causing the edges to blur a bit. But it was easy to read.

"What do you make of it? A code?" The pilot asked Lestrade whose mouth had fallen open. I don't know what's louder. The blood pumping in my veins or the helicopter's roaring. I can feel my heart violently jerk.

"Oh my God." Lestrade curses. His hand rubbing over his face. I swallow thickly. The singed letter carefully burned into the London bridge by explosives are-

_Get Scarlett!_

Followed by a large burning heart.

* * *

><p>"It's a coincidence." Lestrade says as we land. My father snorts, appearing behind him.<p>

"Don't be daft, of course it's not. Someone's after my daughter." A protective hand grips my shoulder. I'm shaking. I straighten as Kier appears, his eyes wide.

"I just heard. It says your name." Kier comes to my other side. John's yelling, trying to find out who did it.

"We don't know. All security cameras where taken off line. We don't even know how they were managed to be placed." Lestrade said. My minds whirling. I'm trying to work it out.

"I need to see the crime scene." I say. Lestrade hesitates before nodding. Me, Kier, John, and Sherlock are led under the tape and to the singed road.

"Sulfur." I say, sniffing the air. My father quickly deduces the bombs used. Homemade. I examine the leftover casings.

"How did he get them on the ground?" John asked. I inspect each area. Smirking.

"Gasoline, you smell it?" I call to Sherlock, who nods. His eyes widen, his own grin large.

"First he write down the sign message in gasoline," Sherlock starts.

"Then he had the bombs placed to blow the cars off the bridge to allow people to see the sign, and to gain recognition."

"The simultaneous effect from the moving of the cars and the explosion is what caused the letters to ignite." I finish. Everyone's looking at us in shock.

"The heart, a threat to you?" I ask my father. He walks passed me, his long coat trailing behind him like a shadow.

"How endearing to see I'm the one you associate closest to love," He smirks when I blush. Humiliating. Bastard.

"I don't think so. Moriarty isn't so subtle." Sherlock says, folding his arms behind his back. Kier's watching closely.

"You think it's Moriarty?" I ask. My father snorts.

"I know." He informs.


	5. Chapter 5

I do not own BBC Sherlock

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

Pacing up and down in the room. Thinking, thinking.

"Are you hungry?" John comes in asking me.

"Shut up, John." I frown when my words are echoed. Didn't realize my father was in the room. He was sprawled out on the couch. Ignore him. John sighs, going to the kitchen. Need more information. Pull out my mobile and dial a number.

"Mycroft Holm-"

"Did you find anything?" I demand. A weary sigh, like I'm a petulant child.

"No, darling. I told you, I would call-"

"Thousands of tourists are snapping pictures of the London bridge twenty four seven and you want me to believe not a single one of them captured our murderer on film?" I growl. Mycroft makes a noise of amusement in the back of his throat.

"It seems our prankster was a little more thorough than we first believed. It just so happens that a unaccountable construction crew was doing some work. No one knows who sent them. I'm forwarding you all the information." He said suddenly.

"Hurry." I say, shutting the phone off. I pull open John's laptop, grinning.

"Covered it by getting a whole construction sight to work on the center of the bridge. Very Moriarty." I call to my father, snapping him out of his thoughts. He sits up, coming to sit side by side with me.

"Brilliant." He breathes. We go through the data together.

* * *

><p>"Lestrade, pretty please." I pout. Lestrade's blushing hotly as I lean over him.<p>

"S-Scarlett, you know I can't." He mutters. Love that I can affect him. Feel like an idiot for not taking samples from the bridge because I was so flustered. Need to get them from Anderson.

"You know that this threat is directed towards me. Maybe by seeing the evidence I can figure out some secret meaning behind it." I try. Kier's hunkered over outside the office, glaring at the floor.

"Fine, but only this once." He says, handing me a pass. Lean over and kiss his cheek. Enjoy the soft stubble. He is just perfection. Shiver as I lean back.

"Thanks." I say, exiting the room.

"Next time want me to hold one of your legs open?" Kier grunts. He's always catty when I have to flirt to get information. Tedious.

"No but you can get the condom ready." I say, he falters in his steps. I'm not usually crude. It's no secret I'm rather naive in sexual relationships, my knowledge on the subject is almost obsolete. I've been doing a series of experiments on Kier to see how he reacts to certain things I say. Sexual innuendos are on the top of the list, right below sappy romantic lines.

"Hilarious." He bites out. I flash the pass to Anderson, digging into the evidence piles.

"Careful!" His nasally voice squawks. Snap a glare at him.

"Lestrade's said he needed you." I lie. Anderson hesitates before stomping away. God I hated him. Rifle through the files before deciding to take the whole box.

"Let's go." I pass the box to Kier with much difficulty. He holds it easily as if the forty pounds has no affect on his massive arms. Wasn't he shot just a few weeks ago?

* * *

><p>"Oh, stunning." I whisper fiddling with whats left over of the homemade bomb. Sherlock and John have retreated up stairs to their soundproof bedroom which I forced Mycroft to install after waking up to the sounds of John moaning my fathers name for the hundredth time.<p>

"Be careful with that." Kier says, reclining in a chair with his feet up on the table. His hands are folded behind his head and he's blowing bubbles with gum. He retrieved his favorite baseball cap from the evidence room, without me realizing. It looked even more worn. His blonde-brown hair stuck out under it barely.

"Shut up." I order. Blue. Red. Yellow wires. This wasn't some amateur toying with explosives he learned to make from the internet. No. Well trained. Military training? No. Yes! Maybe. Military and non traditional crafting. Urban.

"This container-" I murmur. Kier looks up.

"That's ... " I smile. Mistake. The criminal had thought the explosives would take care of all the evidence. Written in clear letters is 'Chicken Palace'. An American style cafe that serves buckets of fried chicken cheap. Here was one of our biggest clues!

"Let's go!" I call. Kier jumps up, following behind closely.

* * *

><p>The place is small, family owned. I stroll in and a young woman is wearing a fifties waitress uniform. Prink frills. Yuck.<p>

"Hello, I'm Sargent Sally Donovan. I'm going to need to look at your security cameras." I say, flashing the badge. With a bit of makeup I can make myself look like I'm in my early twenties. Paired with my hair pulled up and some slacks I can pass as an officer, a young one. Stole the badge from Sally last year. Kier has one of Anderson's.

"Uh, sure. Come in the back." The girl says, her eyes lingering on Kier. Glancing him up and down. Annoying. Do all girls swoon at the sight of a good looking, tall young man. _What about intellect?_

"I need tapes from the first of March to the eleventh." I say. That would give the vandal a week and a half before the bombing. That should be enough time. I watch the security film, Kier beside me. Eye flinting back and forth. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing! I'm becoming impatient on March fifth. So many hours, so many customers! Kier's dozing off beside me, snoring lightly before waking himself. Snore. Feel my eyes grow heavy. The sound is familiar. Everything about Kier is familiar.

"Scar, wake up." Kier says, his massive hands rubbing my back slowly. Strong fingers kneading the tense muscles. Shiver. I'm awake. Didn't say it out loud, did I?

"I'm awake." There.

"I watched the rest of the videos for you. Only suspicious guy was here." He said. On the tenth. A large dark man walks in, his face hidden by a hat. Looks shifty and paranoid. Glare at Kier.

"Idiot, he ordered a small bucket. The bomb was a medium." I hiss. Was he trying to be stupid? He blinks, looking carefully at the grainy picture.

"How can you even tell?" He demands. I grab the tapes, the waitress comes in as I stand.

"I'm confiscating these." I lie. She tries to argue but we are already leaving.

* * *

><p>"This better be good." I huff, lifting my knees to my chin as I sit in a overstuffed theater seat. Kier wanted to see a movie. Don't generally like going to the theaters. Boring. But Kier really wanted to watch this movie.<p>

"It will be." Kier promises, his mouth full of popcorn. Dumb hat still placed snugly on his head. Feel myself forcing back a smile. One of the only presents I've ever got for him. Loves it. I sip from his drink, settling lower into the chair as it starts. _So boring. _A movie about car explosions and criminals. Stupid, done a thousand times.

"I'm going to the bathroom." I say, Kier nods fascinated with the scenes flashing before him. Climbing over his lap I walk down the isle. The sudden light hurts my eyes but it's welcomed from the flurry of rapid changing camera scenes. Surprised I didn't have an epilepsy attack. After using the restroom I glance at myself in the mirror. A feminine version of my father. A smaller more delicate face, fuller lashes, less sharp lips. I wonder if I look like my mother. Never asked who she was. Never really cared. Felt like bringing it up would hurt John, I love John. Suddenly interested.

* * *

><p>John's working at the hospital. Sherlock is playing violin in the living room, thinking.<p>

"Who was my mother?" I ask and the violin makes a violent screech before stopping. The room seems suddenly much quieter without the wonderful music filling it up. My father's back is to me, the robe hanging down to his ankles. I see a glitter of gray at the left of his temple and swallow thickly.

"A woman." He answers, beginning to play after a few moments of silence. Feel myself frown.

"I'm aware of the integral components needed in producing offspring. I want to know who she was." My voice is like the crack of his riding crop. As lethal as his when he is angry. He glances back over his shoulder.

"How'd you know she was dead?" He asks, obviously curious.

"You spoke of her once when I was younger, in past tense." I inform. He nods, smiling. I'd been only ten at the time. I don't remember much from when I was younger than six. Just brief flashes of Kier, John, and Sherlock. Nothing of my mother. Apparently she raised me for a few years.

"Her name was Irene Adler." He says, his fingers slipping up and down the bow. I want to ask more but John enters and the conversation stops.

* * *

><p>"I don't want to." I huff, sitting beside the handsome older man. John rubs his stubbly cheek. I resist nuzzling against him. Although I never feel the need to get close to Sherlock, our minds are too similar. I feel myself suddenly longing to touch John's solid, strong form. He's wearing a light knit jumper that brings out the gray in his hair. The gray reflects to make his deep blue eyes even deeper. So warm, so stable. I slip against him he looks shocked before wrapping an arm around me. Even in his mid fifties John still gets looks from woman. Feel a flicker of jealousy.<p>

"You need to buy some of your own clothes. You're a young lady know, and if Kier goes off to college then he'll probably want his wardrobe back." Pull away from him instantly. Anger.

"Kier won't leave." I'm furious at the suggestion. It's hard for me to get mad at John, but suddenly I'm burning. He reaches for me but I stand, walking a few feet away from him. The mall is crowded and stuffy. But we are off to the side, sitting near a fountain.

"Education is important, Scarlett. I know that he will stay if you ask him to. But what do you think is best for him?" John asks. We'd been on this topic before. Kier and Jenny had both been accepted into a college an hour north. the thought of them being so far away was stinging.

"To be with me." I answer quickly. John sighs, looking down at his strong capable hands. I want to be comforted by him, not challenged.

"We'll talk about it later, for now let's get you some clothes." He says, eyeing the shirt I'd stolen from Kier that looks more like a dress on me. The jeans I'm wearing are fitted, and the sneakers worn. Follow him to the stores.

* * *

><p>John's carrying the bags of clothes I'd managed to suffer through buying. A cute 'trendy' leather jacket and a few sweatshirts that were comfortable and not terrible looking. I'd also bought some new shoes. We were on out way to get some food when we heard it.<p>

"Breaking News! Get Scarlett is worldwide! The phrase first seen scorched onto the the London bridge after a bomb killing one hundred and eight people was set off, is now all over the world! Time square was seen showing the motto for nearly six hours straight before officials could override the system! The _Arc de Triomphe_ in Paris had vandals spray painting the words across it, but with no sighting of it actually happening!" Shows the two images described.

"Almost every major monument in the world is being defaced by this strange slogan with people still at a loss on to what it means. Theories are running rampant on the internet, but one question still remains. Who is Scarlett and where is she?" The newscaster chirped. My world's slowed down as the images flash. Everyone with a heart afterwards. My name. My name. My name.

"Scarlett." John says, fingers firmly holding mine. Stability. Inhale sharply and nod to him.

* * *

><p>"I saw." Kier says opening my bedroom door with anxious eyes. I look up from my bed, I'm curled up in a ball.<p>

"Whoever is after me is going worldwide. I don't understand, it doesn't make sense." Kier comes to sit on the bed beside me. Remotely realize I'm only wearing underwear and a large tee shirt. Don't care. Still thinking about the news report.

"Moriarty is probably just trying to scare you. You should just lay low for awhile, it will blow over." I jerk my gaze to him, scowling.

"Lay low? Ridiculous. You know I'm on a case." I spit. A large case to. Surely it will blow another hole in Moriarty's crime network. Good. Kier grips my wrist, his face serious, as usual.

"Don't you see, he's trying to intimidate you. Why can't you just back off?" He demands. I grip his shirt, using all of his weight against him to hurl him onto my bed. I'm good at wrestling Kier, we do it often. I know how his body moves, and how to turn his dense muscle to my advantage. I know how to make him bend to my will. I'm straddling his hips, he's looking up at me, his eyebrows knitted together. His baseball cap is skewed, I pull it off. Setting it on the table. Stroke my fingers through his hair. Soft, warm, silky. Some strands gold, others light brown. Silken, thick.

"I do what I want, Kier. You should know this better than anyone." I say, sliding my fingers continuously over his scalp. His calloused fingers touch my naked thighs. The shirts ridden up to reveal my plump legs. I don't exercise. Chasing criminals has kept me in shape, well enough. Any excess weight I have goes to my hips, bottom, thighs or breasts.

"I know, but I want you to be safe. It's dangerous and you're so ..." His voice drifts off. His hands are tracing the band of my panties. Dipping into the crease between my stomach and thigh. Tingles, but ignore the feeling. Fascinated with Kier's reaction. Breath heavy and purposely slow, trying to remain calm. Pupils dilated. Keeps licking his lips. Unease? Why? My lack of clothing? Curious, lean down to inspect his pupils more closely. Our noses bump and his breath hitches. Such a strong reaction, to what? I'm confused.

"So what?" I ask, only mildly interested in the conversation. His reactions where happening swiftly. Perspiration. Light but starting on his collar. Nervousness. No. Desperation. He wanted to say something.

"You're so fragile." He finishes. Glare at him, knocking our foreheads together. Our mouths are centimeters apart, he tries to meet mine but I edge away. Loves touch. Don't understand why.

"If I'm so fragile, then how come I have you laying beneath me and trembling?" I smirk. His eyes are half lidded, misted over with an emotion I can't read. His lips bump mine, I pull away and he growls in frustration. His fingers dig into the fragile skin of my thighs. Rupturing some of the shallow capillaries, I'll bruise.

"Because you're so bloody controlling. Just because you're fragile doesn't mean you aren't powerful. You're a tease." He says, hands sliding up to cup my bottom. Resist knocking his hand away. Gasp as he squeezes a handful of the tender flesh.

"What do you mean tease?" I ask. He leans up trying to kiss me and I tilt my head back and he nips my neck in irritation.

"Like that! You don't even realize how much I want ... You're so smart, but so stupid sometimes. Why can't you see?" He's grunting this against my neck. His fingers sliding under my shirt, actually his shirt, but currently it resides on my body. The texture of his hands are a startling contrast against the softness of my skin. I shiver as his rough fingertips leave a trail of fire down my spine. One hand rests on my shoulder, pulling me down against his large chest. The other is holding my hips solidly against his own. Gasp. Annoying.

"I see perfectly. You're eyes are dilating, your breathe is quickening. You enjoy close contact, but I've yet to deduce why. You seem to be stimulated by experimenting with the varied consistency of my skin-"

"Scarlett." His voice is throaty, pained almost. I feel a moment of panic. Kier's in pain? Why? I reach down, sliding my own hands beneath his shirt. Bypass the expanse of his abdominal muscles to the scar. Still raised and angry, the flesh is knotted and hot to touch. I caress the wound. _Is this what's bothering you, Kier?_ I ask with my eyes. His heart is steady and strong beneath my fingers. He tilts his head back, falling onto my pillows with a noise in the back of his throat. Sounds like pain, but the wry twist of his lips let me know he is enjoying it.

"Tell me." I say, and he does. Hesitantly he moves his hips and they are resting fully against mine. The touching, the feeling I'd misinterpreted. I thought it was the assurance of the others safety, the touches of love and tenderness. Wrong. So very wrong. Kier was hard on my thigh, large and demanding. Feel my body react with alarm. Scramble off of him, shaking. No. No!

"I'm sorry!" He's repeating it over and over again. He's not to blame, not really. Bodies natural reactions, and all. But I can't help feel betrayed. I hadn't even considered it. Should have known. Teenage hormones and all. Think of Lestrade. Would he react the same? Repulsion. Even his apologetic hands on my shoulders feel wrong.

"Get out." I say, and he does.


	6. Chapter 6

I do not own BBC Sherlock

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

Irene Adler. Dominatrix. I find old abandoned websites dedicated to her like vacant shrines. She was a beautiful woman. I'd always thought I was my fathers twin but it was obvious some of my more feminine traits had been inherited from her. My small frame, the face structure, nose, eyebrows. All from this strange woman I don't know.

"Kier-" I start into the empty room. Look around. Sherlock and John are out on a case. I'm alone. Kier's not lounging on the couch, watching football. He's not smacking his gum, or scratching the hair beneath his baseball cap. Kier hasn't spoken to me in a week. Feel's like I've lost a part of me. Need him back. Too prideful to go find him. Doesn't he miss me? Can't he see it was his fault? Why is he punishing me? The case I'm working on. I've hit three roadblocks from information I couldn't get because I didn't have Kier. I needed him back. Door slams open and feel my stomach clench.

"What is going on?" Jenny demands. She stomps into the living room, looking pretty with her hair pulled in a loose braid. Strange she changes her hair style. I only ever pull it up in a ponytail or leave it down.

"What do you mean?" I ask, not raising my gaze from the microscope. Still examining evidence from the bombing. _Get Scarlett!_

"Kier and you, I ran into him when I was shopping and you weren't with him. He said it was 'complicated'. Did you guys ..." Her voice trailed off as if I could follow her strange though pattern. Think. What could she be implying?

"Did we what?" I demand. Her cheeks flush. Something of a sexual nature. Cleverer than she looks.

"Of course not." I say quickly. Partially true. I'm not angry because he became excited, per se. More that I didn't realize until then that he saw me as an object of desire. To him I was just a teenage girl he wanted to have intercourse with, I wonder if he felt the bond I did. Did he mistake it all for something as silly as a teen romance. Don't want to think about it, it hurts.

"Well then what? You guys never fight. Well, Kier never fights you. What's going on?" Jenny says, slapping her hands on her narrow hips. Face expressive, almost as expressive as John which is shocking.

"None of your business." I say breezily. She stiffens, huffing as she crosses her arm.

"Well then, you wouldn't happen to have something to do with that weird phrase all over the world. 'Get Scarlett!' right?" She asks, coming to sit by me. Should probably remove the bone marrow bag beside her. Don't bother.

"Why would you think that?" I ask, and she snorts with laughter. Her fingers coming to toy with the ends of my wavy curls.

"You're always in some trouble. I worry about you." She says. Glance up at her and sigh.

* * *

><p>"We've found some footage. I'd like you to see if you recognize anyone. I'll have it delivered to the house." Mycroft says into my ear. Feel myself nearly drop the mobile. Elation. I'm standing in the street, on my way to see Kier. Turn around and wave down a cab. Much more important.<p>

"Thanks." I blurt, realize Mycroft is chattering away about a dinner party he would like to escort me to. Mycroft is quite the matchmaker, he wants to pair me up with a rich young man who he approves of. It isn't rare for me to be informed that I'm to be engaged to some foreign diplomats son, for the greater good of Britain. I manage to make a mess of it before it gets out of hand.

"221B Baker Street." I say, and the cabbie hurries. The parcel is already laying John's lap when I come home.

"What's this?" John asks, I yank it from his hands ripping open the top. Video. Pop it into his laptop. We watch the surveillance cameras.

"If you look here, this man seems to be in charge." Mycroft says. I heard him come up the steps, but John yelps.

"He went to say hello to Mrs. Hudson." I inform. Mycroft's lips turn.

"You grow cleverer by the hour, my dear." He says. Mycroft's annoying. But he is my uncle. Besides, the information he gets me is well worth having to put up with his eccentrics.

"How's the diet?" I comment, not letting my eyes leave the screen. His lips turn down.

"Quite well, Lestrade has been _very_ helpful." I wince. Well played. Knows I have feelings for his spouse.

"The foreman isn't behind it." I say, annoyed. Did he misread it? No. Mycroft is smart.

"Not the foreman, here." He points and I focus in on the gravelly blur. The imaging is terrible, but it's been enhanced already. The security camera is far off and at a terrible angle. What looks like a pedestrian is really the man behind it all. Tall, fit. My breathe leaves me. Oh God.

"You know who he is?" Mycroft seems fascinated. The movements, exactly the same. Wonderful! Brilliant really.

"Yes, I do." I answer.

* * *

><p>Kier is beneath a car, laying on one of the 'creepers' that slide him beneath the ton of metal. The radio is blaring loud classic rock. The suit he is wearing looks like it would be from some awful eighties movie about mechanics. It's a worn light blue with his name patch right above his heart. He has the zipper of the mechanic coverall only done to his hips. The rest falls to his side and a tight white tank top is worn beneath, stained with oil.<p>

"We need to talk." I say, stepping on the empty space between his legs and pulling him out from beneath the car. He sits up, his eyes wide.

"Scar." He mutters, like I'm a ghost. Other mechanics are looking at us. I offer my hand and he takes it. I couldn't lift Kier if I wanted to, but I use all my weight to lean back to help him the slightest as he stands. His arms encircle me, forgot how tall he is. Nestle against his chest with a sigh. Much better. The relief is instant. Almost as if I was dying from dehydration and someone suddenly sat me under a waterfall.

"We need to talk." I repeat. So warm and solid. Smells like gasoline. He leans back and holds my shoulders, large light brown eyes wounded.

"I'm so sorry." He whispers this, so the eavesdropping men around us can't hear. I don't know how to respond a moment, so I just nod.

"It's fine. That's not why I'm here." I say, he looks confused.

"Then why have you been avoiding me?" He demands, his temper flaring. Rare. Very rare. Kier is one of the most self disciplined men I know. Has amazing control over his emotions. As soon as his anger rises it dies down, to his usual stoic demeanor.

"I haven't. I was working on the case, you're the one who abandoned me." I snap. He rubs his face, leaving a black smear of his cheekbone.

"I thought you didn't want to see me after ..." He sounds upset. I take his hand, touching his fingers momentarily before moving away.

"I need you to come look at something." I say, he looks confused but follows.

* * *

><p>"Hey Mycroft." Kier greets. Mycroft lifts his nose in disdain as Kier and I walk in. With Kier sweaty and covered in oil and dirt, while wearing coveralls is not the most fashionable look, Mycroft doesn't need to be such a snob.<p>

"Good to see you, Kieran." Mycroft greets, sighing. He finds our relationship strenuous, insisting I have more upper class friends. Sherlock is sitting across from Mycroft, bow tapping impatiently on his shoulder. No sign of John, probably couldn't handle the two brothers at once. Three Holmes in the same room was catastrophic.

"Shouldn't you be going." I comment, sliding in front of John's laptop. I narrow my gaze at Mycroft when the disk has vanished. He smiles.

"Surely I can leave immediately, if that is what you wish." He grins.

"I'm sure that your attention is needed in some random foreign country were you can enforce your dictator-like leadership, rather than you harassing my daughter." Sherlock says smoothly. Kier's smirking, he enjoys watching these witty battles.

"Don't be ridiculous Sherlock, I won't be overthrowing the eastern hemisphere until after brunch." Mycroft's smile is placating as if we are naughty children he is toying with.

"Give me the disk." I order. I don't have as much patience to play Mycroft's mind games as my father. Mycroft pulls it from his coat, examining it. I know better than to tackle him, but it does cross my mind.

"If you'd allowed me to enter her in the boarding schools I suggested than she would have something akin to manners instead of behaving like a barbarian and causing trouble for me. I've gone to great lengths to protect her identity. Already six journalist have made the connection between 'Get Sherlock' and 'Get Scarlett'. I'm afraid more people will catch on soon." Mycroft informs. I knew he had been pulling some strings to keep my name out of the tabloids.

"People are stupid, she'll be fine." My father grunted, dropping his violin in it's case. Mycroft smooths his hands over his slacks.

"You need to control her, she's already working on another case that will affect Moriarty directly." Mycroft informed. Damn it! Sherlock's gaze locked onto mine, snapping me in place. I met him evenly, keeping my chin up. Kier and my father where nearly the same height, Kier maybe an inch or two taller. But the effect my father on me seemed to be much more devastating. It was hard to meet his icy stare.

"You've been working on a case?" He asks, his voice calm. The storm lays just beneath the surface. No point in lying. Mycroft will just snitch.

"Yes. He's rerouting weapons that Americans are sending to Britain and having them transmitted to Afghanistan. I'm just working on the the last few key players. I think our vandal is playing a major role in most of these conspiracies." I explain. Fear. Hate that I'm scared of him, but I am. I respect him, love him. Don't want him to be ashamed of me. His gaze is nearly silver in the lightened room.

"And you didn't tell me because?" He asked, his voice still remaining placid. I shrug, glancing at Kier. Why hadn't I told him? We don't generally keep each other up to date on cases. I work with Kier and he works with John. It's only when we are truly at a loss when we resort to asking the other for help. Much to my delight my father has consulted me on three cases. Only one had I solved it for him, the other times I just rattled off ideas until he fit the right one in place.

"I didn't think it mattered." I said honestly. His fingers slide over my shoulder, long and smooth.

"Once again I'm impressed. My daughter is doing more to uphold your bureaucracy than your agents." Sherlock said, his fingers tightening as he flashed me a proud smile. I'm flushing brightly beneath his hand. I'm ecstatic.

"Only you Sherlock would encourage your daughter to dabble with terrorist. I'm sure John will see reason." Mycroft threatened. I beam.

"I'm that Lestrade will be just as eager to hear about the woman with the blackberry." I say, Mycroft's smile tightens but he doesn't drop it. Clicking his tongue he turns on his heel.

"It seems I'm outnumbered. Good to see you, Kier. Scarlett, Sherlock." He departs, setting the disk on the desk before leaving. I pluck it from the mantle and pop it in the laptop.

"You've also figured who the vandal is?" Sherlock asked, I nod to him. He shakes his head lightly. He doesn't say anything but the motion is enough. He is pleased with me. The grainy film showed up. John's heavy footfalls where slow up the stairs. Kier jogs down the steps helping him with the groceries. Kier and John are close. Both enjoy talking about woman, sports, and media. Both also have an interest in mechanics, the army, and guns.

"Have another row with the chip n' pin?" Kier laughs deep. Soothing. Wait for the images to load on the screen.

"Hate the bloody thing. Scarlett, get off my laptop." John grunts, ducking under the wax-icles. An experiment I'm working on. Need to sketch up some diagrams.

"Did you catch the game last night? It was brilliant." Kier says, reaching up to grab the box cutter to hand to him so he can open something. John nods to him, smiling.

"It was great! That tackle was- Scarlett!" He snaps. I ignore him and he stomps over, slamming it shut. I groan.

"It was almost loaded!" I shriek. My voice can raise to high pitched and annoying heights. Perfect for irritating my second father. John winces.

"What was?" He asks. I climb over his chair, scrambling to my room. I shove the disk inside, waiting for it to load.

"This is a life or death situation and you're worried about me seeing your gay porn!" I shout, hoping to embarrass him. It seems to work, as he lets out a squeak.

"I-I don't watch gay porn!" He shouts. Kier's red from head to toe. He doesn't mind my fathers being gay in the slightest, but the actual mention of the sexual aspects of it seem to make him exceedingly embarrassed. Amusing. He seems uncomfortable as I bring out the laptop, dropping it on the experiment I'd just finished that morning on the bubblegum and eggshells.

"Then straight porn. The fact of the matter is that this is more important." I say, watching as my father scowls at him. I smirk, as John looks back at Sherlock hesitantly.

"I-I don't-" He gives up and clicks on the telly, glaring at the screen.

"Finally." I blurt, fast forwarding to the time frame in which the man appeared. Kier leans over me, his shoulders nearly obscuring me from view.

"What am I looking at?" He asks. His voice sounds off, still embarrassed from the gay sex talk earlier.

"The pedestrian was giving small hand signals to the construction worker." I say, waiting for the man to appear from behind the car. He was positioned nearly perfectly. All the cameras on the actual bridge would have gotten a terrible image. The man was smart, I loved the clever ones. Always more exciting.

"Look closely." I say, and he does. He peers down over my shoulder. Again I'm reminded who it is.

"I can't see." He lies, his voice tense. I look over my shoulder, our noses nearly touching. Playing dumb? Tedious. Annoying. Go along with it. Still trying to stay on Kier's good side so he doesn't jump me again.

"You see, but you don't observe. The broad slope of the shoulders, barrel chest, trim waist. The man in the image is your father, Kier. Tell me your fathers name." I say, and he looks paralyzed a moment before taking a staggered step back. My father is watching us with interest from his spot resting near John's side.

"His name." I inquire. He clears his throat, his eyes confused and wild.

"Sebastian. Sebastian Moran." He answers, dropping his gaze. Brilliant!


	7. Chapter 7

I do not own BBC Sherlock

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

"Sebastian Moran, a-are you serious?" John's alarm was palpable. His distress was etched over his handsome features. Strange. Knows him previously. John's a brave man, not much rattles him.

"I'm pretty sure. He came to visit me in the hospital, but I haven't seen him since I was a kid." Kier said, looking worriedly at John. Sherlock was deducing him, his eyes frantically flickering up to his expression. He was trying to gauge his reaction. Why was John so uneasy? What is one thing that John fears? Someone who almost managed to kill my father and ruin his name. Moriarty.

"How are Sebastian and Moriarty linked?" I ask suddenly. Realize I interpreted Kier, don't care much. John licks his lips, eyes tight. I was to smooth the deep set bags beneath his usually steady eyes. John flashes a look to my father before answering. My father is giving me an approving smile.

"Sebastian is Moriarty's right hand man. He used to be a colonel in the army, but he dishonorable discharge. He's an expert sniper and works as Moriarty's assassin. We thought Mycroft had him executed years ago." John said, worrying his slender lips with his teeth. Think. Moriarty is brilliant, almost as much so as I.

"Do you think that ..." I start before I even realize. My father is surveying me at the same moment, his thick lips twisted up.

"Oh, yes." He chuckles.

"I don't know when we established a telepathic hotline but mine seems to have crashed. So if you could just explain to us mere humans." John heatedly. Nervous, worried about me. Feel a stab of affection.

"Moriarty might be using Kier as a connection to Scarlett. If he can get Sebastian and Kier on speaking terms than Sebastian can get information about Scarlett that would be otherwise unavailable to them. Knowing Moriarty it was his plan all along." Sherlock explained. Kier's face fell, hurt clear on his hard face.

"You think I'm spying on you?" He asked me, his voice low. Looks so abandoned. We are the closest thing he has to family.

"Of course not, you don't think _I_ would realize if I was being spied on. No, we thing Sebastian will come to you soon to get information about me." I say haughtily. Sebastian's gaze drops guiltily.

"He kind of kept in touch after the hospital." Kier admits and the room freezes. My father is suddenly slamming him into the wall, gripping him by his stained tank top.

"What did you tell him." Sherlock demands. Kier's looking at me over my father's shoulder.

"I told him about ... I told him how Scarlett rejected me. I just kind of vented to him. I thought I could, I thought he wanted to get to know me better. I'm sorry." Kier's gaze steady on mine.

"I always knew you looked familiar." Sherlock said, releasing him. Kier looks away, face taunt.

"I'll confront him, the bastard." Kier growls. John run a hand through his sandy hair.

"No, no. I've got a better idea. What if we feed him information. If he asks about Scarett you can lure him and Moriarty into a trap." John says. Really he is bright sometimes. Both me and Sherlock are beaming at him.

"Brilliant, John." Sherlock grins, causing his lover to blush.

* * *

><p>Night in. Sherlock and John have retired early. Kier and I are sitting on the couch, watching Doctor Who on the telly. Don't watch much TV unless Kier asks. Do enjoy Doctor Who though, strange but engaging show.<p>

"If we had the Tardis, where would you want to go?" He asks, his cap tipped down to shade over his pale brown eyes. He gnaws on a piece of gum, glancing at me.

"Back in time to collect evidence and solve all the most intriguing cold cases. Starting with the The Black Dahlia, Jack the Ripper, and Amelia Earhart." I answer immediately. Kier snorts a laugh, dragging his thumb over his masculine eyebrow. A strange habit, but one he indulges in frequently. Find it endearingly casual.

"And you?" I ask, curling up in a ball beside him. His arm his flung out impulsively behind me, resting on the back of the couch.

"The same, I guess. I'd follow you to the ends of the universe." He says, tossing me an easy smile. I'd think his words were just erratic if not for the light dusting of pink over his straight nose. He was trying to duck beneath his cap. I bend down, peering beneath the rim of his cap.

"If I were the doctor you would be my companion." I say, leaning up to rest my cheek against his. He misinterprets my actions and brushes his lips over mine. The kiss is so chaste it could be given to a child affectionately. The entire conversation is so juvenile, but it stirs my heart. One of my hands is planted beside Kier's hip, holding me over him.

"You're kind of sending me mixed signals here, Scar." He says after an extended period of me staring at his lips. He licks them nervously. Lean back, glaring at him.

"Don't be ridiculous. I was merely examining you." I snap. Blush. How humiliating. Hadn't even realized I was staring at him. He grins, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

"Want to take a closer look?" He growls under his breath. The vibrations rumble through my back. I snarl, gripping him and throwing him to the floor. He laughs as I tackle him, our bodies colliding. His easily cushions mine, then he rolls us over. He pins me to the ground. I sweep my leg under him and reverse it. He grunts, his chest bumping the floor as I wrench his arm behind him. Steps on the stairs. I look up from insulting the large boy beneath me.

"Scarlett, it's late. You have school." John yawns, wobbling slightly as he walks. So obvious. I flush, looking away. The saliva is still glistening on his neck, the bite marks will be purple tomorrow. No decency!

"Father finished with you so early? Usually he keeps you well into the night." I comment. John's turn to flush. Good, punishment for forcing me to deduce him only minutes after his last orgasm. He huffs, hurrying into the kitchen.

"Harsh." Kier chuckles. John returns with two mugs of warm tea as he bustles up the stairs.

"Since you're replacing Mrs. Hudson as the house keeper, I have some laundry that needs washing!" I call, and Kier is laughing loudly beneath me.

* * *

><p>Aren't I too old for a school field trip? Slinking behind the group of girls snapping pictures beside cavemen and giggling like hyenas, I let my mind wander. Hate field trips. Hate any group activity to be honest. It's hard to have to play nice with others. I manage for short periods of time, but after that my social graces begin to crumble. The teacher is gesturing to a statue. I turn walking down the corridor. Boring. Pass by people, some look at me with wide eyes. Not sure if it's because of my nearly translucent blue eyes or annoyed face. Either way, the stared continue. Happens a lot when I go to public places. I stop in front of an amazing work of art. Not sure who painted it, don't care much really. The details are so delicately crafted. I don't know how long I've been staring when I hear a voice behind me.<p>

"Beautiful." A man whispers. I turn slightly, handsome. Very slight frame, around John's height which is still taller than me. A gorgeous suit, tailored to fit him perfectly. The gray above his temples only makes him look more distinguished. If not for those terrible seedy eyes I would think him a very average if not good looking man.

"Renaissance." I acknowledge. Moriarty. I'm almost positive. I only saw two pictures of him when he was younger. Looks nearly the same. Does he plan to hurt me? Kill me? No, not his style. Hasn't yet tormented me, tested my knowledge.

"My art, my creation. Even more beautiful than I thought." Pause a moment. Brain is fluttering, stumbling over itself to shift through all the facts. Too fast, inhale catch my breath. He's talking about me.

"I'm not sure what exactly you're hiding, Mr. Moriarty. But a uterus is most unlikely." I comment. He laughs, as if we are friends sharing a joke. He slides closer to me, so smoothly I almost don't realize. Almost.

"Very clever, just like your mother. Don't you want to know more about her?" He asks. There is only so much a computer can tell you. Most of it is about her 'work', I'd much prefer to learn about the woman behind the whip.

"Let me guess. If I come with you you'll tell me all about her. Textbook." I declare. Secretly I'm terrified. His eyes are dancing, he seems to be thrilled.

"Oh you are wonderful. A perfect blend of calculating and seductive. I don't think you've worked out the last bit yet, how old _are_ you? Sixteen?" Moriarty tapped his fingers to his chin, his gaze drifting off a moment.

"I've figured out the bit about Moran. You're using him to pry information from Kier." I say, still face the painting and only speaking to him over my shoulder. He's still staring off, a light hum on his lips.

"Then again, you surely are more mature than an average teenager. Waiting for you to age it so bleak." He confided, sighing. My shoulders stiffened, I turned facing him. Lips pursed.

"Oh, even a bit of Johnny boy in you. You're a mosaic e of personalities, aren't you." He grinned, reaching to touch my chin. I almost flinched away, his fingers were cool and on my jaw. Shiver. Don't show any emotions on my face

"Sebastian Moran, you're using him to spy on my family." I say, he tilts his head. Disapproving.

"Darling, hasn't your father taught you not to make deductions until you have facts to back them up?" Moriarty dropped his hands, his eyes still trained on me.

"You're saying I'm wrong?" A tinge of defiance edging my voice. All he needs to spur him on, his lips break into a grin.

"Oh no, no, no. You're on the right track, love, but chasing the wrong train. Let's not talk about Sebastian, he's so pedestrian. Let's talk about you. A boyfriend?" He asks, his fingers lingering on the tips of my hair. Should have worn it up, he's standing so close I'm sure it looks like we are lovers whispering to each other.

"No, I don't have time." I say, his eyes burn into mine. His head swerves just the smallest, like a snake looking for the right time to strike.

"First kiss then?" He asks, leaning forward. Our lips are barely a millimeter apart. Can smell the gum he's been smacking on since our meeting began. So close, his breath is warm.

"Yes." I answer. He sighs, rocking back on his heels.

"A shame, would have loved to snatch that away from you. You see Scarlett, that's what I'm going to do." He does a small spin, like he's trying to entertain me. He locks his fingers behind his back, showing how slender his waist and hips are.

"I'm going to peel back every layer of your being. Starting with your skin, then your muscles, tendons, veins, capillaries, bone, organs, all the down until nothing is left but your soul." He's whispering. Circling me like a shark. Shaking. Can't stop. The playful tone he had kept earlier has vanished, replaced with one of dark promise. Terrifying. Thrilling.

"Then once your soul is cupped in my palms I'll devour it, every last bit of you will be mine." His fingers were on my coat, the lightest touch felt so terrible. I clear my throat.

"I've been called soulless on several occasions." I warn. My voice is steady. Feel my usual fire begin to return after the shock has worn. I'm strong. Strong enough to defeat him. He's laughing, like I've reminded him of a hilarious old joke. His eyes are flashing like obsidian.

"Oh, but we both know that isn't quite true." He purrs, unable to keep the slimy smile off his face. I've missed something. His eyes are too amused.

"But just to be sure, I'll rip it from your chest." He seems to vanish as I stand there. Frozen.


	8. Chapter 8

I do not own BBC Sherlock

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

"She said trunk." I murmured. Lestrade looked up from his notebook.

"What?" He asked, not hearing my mumbling. Trunk. Not boot, trunk. Strange.

"Mrs. Webber! Could I speak to you for a moment." I called, jogging to the older woman. She turned around, tears still streaming down her face.

"You've spent time in America?" I asked. She rubbed her eyes, glancing at the soldiers who had been leading her from the murder scene. Military base, living with her husband. Had been missing for days, found him dead and stuffed in the boot of the car."

"No, what would I be doing in America?" She asked, touching her cheeks. Liar. Interesting.

"It's strange, because you said trunk. You said, and I quote, 'I found my husband in the trunk of the car'. Never heard someone call it that unless they've spent some time in America." I slide my hands into my coat pockets. The woman sniffles, her eyes narrowing a fraction.

"I watch American telly, I must have picked up on it." She says, turning and allowing herself to be escorted. Kier is helping lift the large man onto a stretcher.

"Couldn't of killed him with brute force, she is too small, let me guess. Poison?" I call to the medic. Lestrade's sighing, rubbing his forehead.

"I told you Scarlett, this is a murder scene not a teenage hangout." He frowns. Ignore him.

"You're right." The medic seems startled. I go over, reexamining the body.

"You're murderer is walking away, Lestrade." I inform. Lestrade sighs, again.

"And how would you know that?" He frowns. I scan the man. No evidence.

"She said 'trunk'." I relay, lifting the man's uniform collar. Lestrade scowls.

"Scarlett if I arrested every woman who tries to speak with an American accent then every prison would be packed full!" He snapped.

"He was injected while being embraced. Kier hold up the body." I demand. I wrap my arms around the mans neck, demonstrating. His head lolls onto my shoulder.

"The wife was left handed. See the angle of the wound, it would have been administered from this position. I doubt a soldier suffering from PTSD would let many people get close enough to him to embrace, only person I can think of was his wife." I say, stepping away from the man. Lestrade's sighing. I've gathered a crowd around us now.

"What makes you think he has post traumatic stress disorder?" Lestrade asks, crossing his arms. I smirk at him.

"Come now, Lestrade. Are you suggesting that it's a guess? Me, think? I know." I open the mans mouth, gesturing to his teeth.

"Ground down teeth, most likely in his sleep from night terrors," Open his eyes.

"Bloodshot eyes, lack of sleep. All classic signs of someone suffering from PTSD." I say, shutting the mans eyes once again. Kier lowers his body to the stretcher.

"Alright, so what does the American accent have to do with it?" Lestrade demands. Look up, smirk.

"You there!" I call, a man in uniform stiffens coming forward. As large as Kier, buzzed head and naive eyes. Holding a large gun cradled to his chest.

"Name." I order. The man clears his throat. Only a bit older than me. Nineteen?

"Jesse Burke, Miss." He says, the southern drawl thick in his voice. I grin.

"You wouldn't happen to be the only American on this base." I ask, smiling up at him. He shakes his head.

"No ma'am. We're stationed here to get some training before headin' over to Afghanistan. It's a new program they got runnin'." He briefs. I turn back to Lestrade.

"She must be spending an a lot of time watching the Americans train to pick up on their accents." I say, he picks up on my suggestion.

"You're saying that she's been messing around with one of the American's?" Lestrade snorted. I'm saying a hundred different things in my mind. Need to say them aloud.

"Husband's been deployed for nearly six months. Mr. Burke, how long have you been stationed here?" I ask, whipping around to look at him.

"Five months, ma'am."

"All alone for nearly half a year. Must have gotten the best of her, especially for a woman who aspires to be a famous Hollywood actress. Judging from the extensive collection of old Hollywood films and assortment of American paraphernalia I think it would be safe to say she has a bit of an obsession." I nod to Kier who is leaning on Lestrade's police car, watching me with amusement.

"Scar-" Lestrade starts.

"So when a handsome young American soldier shows up on her doorstep, they begin a relationship. Nothing serious, no murder conspiracies of the sort. That is until the husband returns home, oh how long ago was it? A week? And he has been missing for four days. Must hand it to her, she moves fast. Burke. Invalids, when are they being shipped back to the states?" I ask. Burke looks up, his eyes so very gentle. Looks nothing like a soldier.

"Tomorrow, miss." He says.

"What does being invalid have to do with i-" Lestrade! Bloody hell he is smarter than this. Why isn't he keeping up? Weary eyes, short temper. Ah, an argument with Mycroft.

"Has to be invalid! I hardly doubt the woman wants to go to Afghanistan. She plans on returning to the states with her lover soon, or she would never have killed her husband. He was getting in the way, she had to get rid of him so she could leave. He'd try and stop her, maybe confront her American. Stupid enough to have raised alarm too early. Probably is going to say that now that her husband is dead she is going to stay with family in the U.S. or start again. It's so obvious!" I cry. People are watching as I yell at Lestrade. He nods to one of his officers.

"Alright, go find Mrs. Webber. Arrest her."

* * *

><p><em>'Breaking news! Big Ben's been sabotaged. London's most beloved monument has been defaced, the two hands have been removed and seemed to have vanished into thin air. Not only is the nation infuriated with the theft of the idolized clock tower's hands, but the tower has also been graffitied with, you guessed it, the mysterious motto 'Get Scarlett!' But a twist has happened. Follow the now familiar slogan that has sparked millions of conspiracy theories is followed by an 'H.' It seems clear now that the Scarlett is most certainly a person, but the world wants to know who is Scarlett H. And why is she in this whirlwind of intrigue.' <em>

"The schools changed your name. Lestrade is having them place all in top secret files in the Scotland Yard. Were going to make it very difficult to trace you." John said, coming to sit by my side.

"Hmm." The story was getting coverage worldwide. This was his plan. To make me so renowned I was known throughout the world? But why? Was he repeating what he did to my father?

"Are you okay?" Kier looked ill. Like it was causing him more pain than I. My father sat silently on the couch.

"He's setting a trap into place, we're the players. What does he have planned?" My father muttered.

* * *

><p>"I have to go to work, I'll see you later." Kier waved, leaving me at the small cafe down the street from his mechanics shop. Think. Think. Moriarty is planning something. Something big. But what? I waited for nearly twenty minutes before he came.<p>

"I have had a rough day." Moriarty sighed, dropping into the seat beside me with a sigh. I examine him, steeping my fingers and pressing my thumbs to my bottom lip.

"I've met you here like you've asked." I pointed out. He reached over, licking his lips as he ate the rest of the pastry Kier had purchased for me.

"So you have, wonderfully obedient. I like that in a woman." He jeered, nibbling on the tart. He crossed his legs, tapping his foot in midair.

Why the 'Get Scarlett'? What are you trying too accomplish?" I ask. He cracks a wide sneer, his small white teeth showing like an animals.

"Patience is a virtue. Tell you what, you help me with a little problem I'm having and I'll tell you whatever you want to know." He says, his head tilting slightly.

"What's the problem?" I ask, his smile widens. His face reminds me of the Cheshire cats.

"Sherlock Holmes." He declares, his smile vanishing.

"You help me outwit the angel, and I'll let him live. He's putting quite the dent into my criminal investments." Moriarty sighed, tapping his knees.

"Why would I ever help you." I snarl. The table clatters, people to turn look at us. He moved so quickly the chair fell out from behind him. His face is right near mine, his lips against my ear.

"Because you're not like them, are you my little Scarlett? You're not on the side of the angels. You're lost, wandering back and forth between heaven and hell. Let me guide you, let me hold you. You _are_ mine." He whispers it, his voice menacing. I don't move, speaking in a stone-like voice.

"I'll die before I ever help you." He tusks, leaning back to reach down for the chair he knocked over. Picking it up in a very ordinary manner. He sits back down.

"No you won't. We'll have John offed first, then Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson, should we save your favorite for last?" He grinned. My stomach dropped, Kier?

"Although, killing the DI might cause a ruckus." He sighs, sipping my tea. Oh, Lestrade.

"I won't help you."

"Then everyone you love will die. Don't you see why I'm dong this, love? It's a game. I could have your entire family slaughtered like cattle. But you're the only minds that have ever challenged me. Sherlock's aging but you. Oh, you are just beginning to discover all that you can be! It's fantastic isn't it? This little game of ours." He chuckled, slicking back his hair with his hand.

"Scarlett H. You plan on letting out a new letter for every time I deny one of your request?" I ask. He jumps up from the chair, moaning in delight.

"You are so clever! Look at you! I thought Sherlock was brilliant but you! Oh, fantastic! How long did it take for you to come up with that?"

"The second I saw it." I answered.

"Beautiful, stunning! My perfect creation." He dropped to his knees beside me, cradling my face. Silence besides the cafe goers whispering around us. Watching as he leaned up, our lips so close yet again.

"My protegee." He says, releasing me and stepping back to slide into a car I hadn't seen pull up on the curb.

* * *

><p>"You're being blackmailed." Sherlock states. Look up in annoyance.<p>

"I've got the lab for another half an hour." I point out. He enters St. Bart's like he owns the place.

"What's he blackmailing you with, me?" My father asks, gripping my seat and spinning it so I'm looking directly at him. I glare hotly.

"You're not in the center of every criminals mastermind scheme, you know." I snap. He smiles, like I'm endearing.

"If they're in London, I am." He's so bloody confident. Only weakness I can think of when I sprayed perfume on John when we went shopping and then went home with Jenny. That night when I returned home Sherlock had been in a frenzy, screaming and breaking things because he was sure that John had cheated on him. Jealousy would be his biggest downfall.

"I can handle it myself." I say, trying to turn back to the test results. He holds the chair in place, causing me to growl.

"You're my daughter, I'm to protect you." He says. Strangely affectionate. Not something either of us indulge in. We both know we care for each other. Strange bond through blood. We only bother showing tenderness to regular people like John or Kier, who you have to prove you care for or they disappear.

"I'm fine." I say, looking into his eyes. He deduces me quickly.

"If you need any help, don't hesitate to call in your superior." He smirks. My mouth falls open.

"Superior! Like hell!" I jump to my feet, he is grinning widely.

"Don't be crude, Scarlett. It's nothing to be ashamed of, you are still just a child-"

"Piss off!" I hiss. Stomping from the room.

* * *

><p>Four years ago the episode with the perfume and Sherlock having a meltdown occurred. John had been very content after that, it had been one of Sherlock's only large displays of affection. John needed to be coddled. I took over most of the affection he needed, cuddling against his side while my father ignored him for his experiments in the kitchen. But it seemed that Moriarty returning was forcing my father into even more detached behavior.<p>

"Sherlock, do you know what today is?" John said, walking into the kitchen with a flower behind his back. A rare one, one my father could dissect and examine it's pollen. Oh John was clever. I sit on the couch, watching the alteration.

"Tuesday, Scarlett why didn't you go to school?" He demands suddenly. Frown, thought he wouldn't have noticed. Doesn't care much for such mundane things.

"We're on holiday." I lie, and he accepts it. John clears his throat when he is quickly forgotten.

"No Sherlock, today is something special." John says, standing on the tips of his toes to peer over Sherlock's shoulder.

"I'm busy, John." Sherlock grunts, scribbling something down. Feel my stomach drop when John deflates.

"I'm going out for a bit." John trudges, his face sullen. I sigh as he drops the flower by the door. Don't usually care much for romantic relationships, but these were my fathers. Pick up the flower and throw it at Sherlocks head. He twitches in annoyance, catching it off his shoulder with a scowl.

"It's your anniversary, idiot." I curse, going to my room and lock my door. I need to make a call.

* * *

><p>John comes home late, smelling of alcohol and perfume. Oh perfect, one of the woman I solved a case for had been looking for a husband. I told her about my handsome 'single' father down at the pub near baker street. As I predicted he was swimming in evidence when he got home. His shirt was still tucked in securely, and his shoes tied exactly the same. Obvious he did nothing wrong. But my father would be blinded by rage, too angry to see past the smell and John's swollen lips.<p>

"John, what-" My fathers voice falls. Taking in the long strand of blonde hair on his shoulder, the stink of perfume. Lastly zeroing in on the swollen lips. I could play it all in my mind. The woman I sent to meet him was assertive, probably landed a rough kiss on him before he pulled away and told her he was in a relationship. John would never cheat. Sherlock jumped from his crouched position on the chair and strolled over to John who was struggling with his jacket.

"Whose hair is this?" Sherlock's voice was dangerously low. So jealous. I hid a snicker behind my hand. For someone who supposedly never relayed any emotions, John surely got the best of him. John looked up with glazed eyes.

"A girl from the bars, we were just talking." John's not even realizing how angry Sherlock is. He's just trying to get out of his coat. He shifts and his collar falls down. The lipstick there is unmistakable. Sherlock slams him to the wall.

"You let her put her mouth on you!" Sherlock is yelling louder than I've ever heard him. Ohhh, John's in trouble. I side silently on the couch, watching John's soldier training kick in as he plants his feet on the ground. He almost throws my father off, but his hands just push him back a bit.

"She kissed me and I-" Sherlock turns throwing a painting off the wall.

"You're lying to me!" Sherlock's screaming obscenities. John's still drunk, stumbling after Sherlock and trying to soothe him. Sherlock's in a rage ripping books and lamps from their places and stringing them across the living room.

"Sherlock, stop it!" John says. I get up, going to my room. I listen carefully, prepared to go out and tell them I sent the girl if things get too out of hand. But sure enough ten minutes later Sherlock is calmed. He's speaking burning words to John who is giving soft replies. When I hear John moan, and behind dragged up the stairs I know my plan has worked. Quickly I turn on the radio to drown out the loud noises from upstairs than even a soundproof room can't completely drowned out.


	9. Chapter 9

I do not own BBC Sherlock

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

Can't breathe. Running too much. Not in well enough shape. Pant, gasp, inhale.

'_Mine.'_

It had been scribbled in graffiti all over the city. Took me twenty minutes to realize. Had been planning to walk to Kier's apartment. Saw it written everywhere. Knew who the message was for. Me. How did one communicate with James Moriarty? How did someone find him? Raced home, skidded to a halt on my street. Just as I expected. Written all over 221b's door. '_Mine_'. Rush up the stairs.

"Dad! John!" I cry. No reply. To terrified to deduce, could use my mind to tell if they are okay. Have to see with my eyes. John, in the center of the room tied to a chair. His shirt ripped open. On his chest, scratched into his skin.

_'Mine'_ In spidery letters.

* * *

><p>Makeup. It had been makeup. The four letters smeared off when I went to touch them. I sigh in relief, untying him. I still got the point.<p>

"John." I whisper, trying to wake up. The makeup had the desired affect. Letting me know how easy it was for Moriarty, how easily he could ruin me. Pull John from the chair, too heavy for me to drag to the couch. Lay him in my lap. He'll be out for awhile. Mobile.

"Kier." My voice strained.

"What's wrong?" His voice sounds hard, angry already?

"Someone, someone hurt John. Can you come? I can't move him." I'm nearly sobbing. I love John. I'm stroking his hair from his broken forehead. They beat him. Bruises blooming all over his stout torso. My John.

"I'm on my way." Kier promises. I lift Johns face to my shoulder. Crying loudly against him.

"John, wake up, please." I beg. Crying, crying so loudly. Children cry because they want attention. I want John's attention. I need it. Please. Smooth movement. Sherlock? Look up.

"Is he-" dead? Sherlock can't say it. Was knocked out upstairs. Didn't even bother to go look for my own father. Knew subconsciously that Moriarty wouldn't kill him, needed him.

"He's alive." I croak. Heavy foot falls on the stairs as my father begins shaking. Lays a hand on the wall to keep himself from falling. Kier. Feel myself calm instantly. Kier will fix it all. Those large calloused fingers easily lift John's compact body. Carefully laying him on the couch. Calls and ambulance, calls Lestrade. Helps my father sit down. Strokes my back as I cling to John's chest, rubbing the makeup frantically from his chest. Kier fixes it for me. Kier always puts things back together when they are broken. Cars. Clocks. Vacuum cleaners. Dishwashers. Families at crime scenes. John. Sherlock. Even me.

* * *

><p>"He's in a coma but he should wake within a few hours." The doctor reassures. Rest my forehead against his arm, holding his strong, limp fingers. Sherlock's on the other side. Both of us sit in silence for days. John won't wake up. Kier comes in and out. On the fourth day flowers arrive. Sherlock doesn't bother with them so I get up and sign them off. Glance at the note, who would send them? Lestrade? Mrs. Hudson's are already resting by the window.<p>

_'Sorry for your loss.'_

Spidery letters. Moriarty. Run down the hall, dropping the flowers. The postman is near the entrance.

"Who sent these?" I scream, he looks at me with wide eyes.

"I don't know, the flower shop had me deliver them." He says.

"Which one." I demand. He gives me and address and I leave the hospital. Time to meet with Mr. Moriarty.

* * *

><p>"It was anonymous. They paid us a lot of money not to give out any information." The woman says. I slam my hand down on the glass.<p>

"They called you, I want the damn number." I'm snarling. The woman leans back.

"I'm going to call the cops-" She threatens. Reach up and grip her dress, jerking her against the counter.

"My father is a coma, someone sent these flowers saying sorry for your loss. He was beaten nearly to death. You'll give me that number even if I have to knock it out of you!" She scrambles to give me the log. Pointing to the number given. Dial it on my cellphone, leaving while she calls the police.

"Hoping you might call." Moriarty's voice is amused.

"I'll do it." I blurt, walking briskly down the street. He chuckles.

"Hm, that's a wide range for me to work with. Somethings I visualize you doing, you might be a bit adverse to. Might want to be more specific, love."

"I'll do whatever you want, as long as you never touch John or Sherlock again." I stop as a car pulls beside me.

"Good girl, get in."

* * *

><p>"I do wish you'd take more time to cater to your appearance. Being pretty doesn't merit for horrid taste in fashion." He whined as I was led into the office. Sebastian was standing behind the desk, silent.<p>

"If John dies, I'll kill you." I say this seriously and Sebastian stiffens. Moriarty laughs behind his hand.

"Don't worry, I'm giving him the antidote as we speak." Moriarty smiles. Poison. Of course. I drop my head relief pouring throughout my body.

"What do you need me for?" I ask, looking up. Moriarty is looking at me like I'm a equation that needs solving. He tilts his head and smiles.

"Everything. You're my favorite chess piece on the entire board. So much contradiction in that soft little body of yours." His eyes rake up and down my figure. Ignore it.

"Give me specifics." I say. His eyebrow quirks up. His smile vacant of any real emotions, but his eyes are burning with wickedness.

"Your father, I want you too ruin his career. Set him up to look like he is a criminal, I want him in prison." Moriarty smiled.

"That will take months." I say. Prison. Not so bad. He'd be alive, safe. My father could handle himself.

"You have two weeks."

* * *

><p>My fathers DNA all over the body provided by Moriarty. Ridiculous. No way my father would ever leave behind such evidence. Over do it, hope Lestrade will see the obviousness. Moriarty can't punish me for doing too good of a job.<p>

"Almost done?" Sebastian, my prison guard. Keeps tabs on everything I do. The resemblance to Kier is uncanny, have found myself leaning against him subconsciously more than once. Slight differences, the man has a more wheat colored hair while Kier has chestnut undertones. Sebastian's nose has been broken and has a slight bump. Also has a bit of stubble that Kier usually shaves off. A bit broader than his still growing son. The most unique feature they both share is the scars on their faces. Sebastian has a scar going from his eyebrow to his cheek, a ragged ugly scar. Kier has a clean, sharp silver scar cutting over his eyebrow that draws attention to his lovely eyes.

"Yes." I say, he reaches out offering his hand. Chivalry is something they both share as well. The silent brooding, yet somehow polite gene seems to be passed down. Accept the hand. As much as I try, I can't hate Sebastian. He's not an asshole, he tries to make me comfortable while I ruin my fathers life. He just looks so much like Kier.

"The car should be here in a minute." Sebastian relays. Soldier. Back rim rod straight. Kier would have his hands tucked casually into his pockets while smacking his gum impatiently, that stupid hat tilted over his forehead.

"Your son is my best friend." I say. Sebastian glances at me, blue eyes that should be a pale copper brown.

"S'that right? Don't know much about him." He admitted. Slight accent, couldn't pin point it. Had been desperately trying too. He usually didn't speak unless I addressed him directly.

"You gave him up for adoption, why?" I asked. He watches me from the corner of his eyes, shrugging once.

"Don't think a professional killer should raise a kid, it isn't what his mother would have wanted." Sebastian says. He slides his hands into his pockets and I smiled. Kier.

"What was his mothers name?" I ask, desperately awaiting the answer. Sebastian gives a charming, rough smile.

"That's a secret." He grins. I resist smiling back. Only Kier can make me smile so easily.

"You act a lot like him. Kier I mean." I clarified. He shoulders the rifle bag, something he is never seen without. It's like Kier with his hat.

"Yeah, I noticed when I saw him the hospital ... he looks like me." Sebastian says, eyes looking faraway. I shake my head. My hair tumbles around my shoulders.

"No, the way you both act. It's strange." Sebastian gives me a weary glance and opens the door for me when the car arrives.

* * *

><p>"It's ruined! It's all ruined!" Moriarty tantrum session number one. Hopefully the last I ever have to experience because frankly it is beyond terrifying. I shift to get up from my chair and make for the door.<p>

"Don't move!" Sebastian says, striding into the room. He drops the rifle by the door. He grips Moriarty by the shoulders, crushing his slender form to his much larger chest.

"It's okay, it's okay. I'll fix it." Sebastian promises. Moriarty is snarling and clawing at him. Even with blood dripping down his skinned arms he still holds tights. His white fitted shirt is stained, but he cradles the middle aged man to him. soothing him with soft words. He looks up at me, nodding to the door. I scamper out. But before I leave I hear their final exchange.

"I'll take care of it." Sebastian murmurs, his fingers trailing the edges of Moriarty's hair without ruining it. Moriarty claws at his back, whimpering like a child.

"Sebastian." He says his name like a prayer.

Kier was my Sebastian. The one who calmed me when I was in a frenzy and no one could even touch me. So did that make me Moriarty?

* * *

><p>Kier and me like taking walks. Usually in silence around the dark streets of London. Good way to find trouble, something I'm keen on. His hand occasionally brushed mine, I find the unpredictable annoyance frustrating so I grip it.<p>

"Stop knocking into me." I say, releasing his grip. He looks down at me, a small frown. Thinking. Going over how long before they find the body that I planted with my fathers copious DNA. They won't even call him in too investigate, Anderson and his group of morons will be able to read it easily.

"Sorry." Kier sighs. For what? Oh, the hand touching. Wouldn't usually mind, just trying to think. Think. The police will go to the flat. Sherlock and John will probably be sharing some 'private' time together after the scare. They'll be interrupted. Sherlock will be booked in nothing but pajama pants and maybe a robe.

"I wanted to hold hands with you." Kier says. Hmm? Why? Offer my hand. He takes it, his hand nearly double my size. Thick callouses from work, strange contrast to my smooth skin.

"Scarlett?" John will fight back. He'll argue and maybe throw some punches. When I go home no one will be waiting. John will call Stramford, he'll get out in a few hours. Come home and apologize to me for being so selfish, for leaving me alone. For thinking of Sherlock first.

"Scarlett, are you even listening to me?" Kier's voice cuts through my thoughts. Deep, annoyed. Snap my gaze to him and he freezes. He always does when I give him my full attention. I find it strange.

"I'm busy, stop talking." I say, pulling my hand from his grip and walking again. He doesn't follow for a moment before chasing me down. Sigh.

"What's going on? Are John and Sherlock in trouble?" He demands. Sometimes Kier has moments of insight that confounds me. He really is clever than the average person. It's almost like he hides it.

"How did you know?" I ask when he reaches my side. Three steps of mine are one of his. Much longer legs, much lengthier strides.

"They're the only people you care about." His hat shades his eyes in the dim light. His pink lips tug down, his hands sliding into his pockets.

"Of course, they raised me." I answer. His shoulders tighten, wrong answer? See his fist clench in his pockets.

"What about me?" He asks this solidly, like slapping me with a wall. It's such a blunt question it takes me by surprise and I look for a catch. It has to have some hidden meaning, right?

"What about you?" I counter. One of the rules of intelligence, if you don't feel smart then ask clever questions. Although, that wasn't exactly profound.

"Stop dodging, do you care about me?" He asks, his brow knitting. I reach up, touch the wrinkled skin above his nose. His face falls, his eyes sad. Why?

"Of course." I answer. Had he ever failed to realize? Ever part of him so so familiar, my other half. Annoying but very true.

"You love me then?" Eager now. His hands grip my shoulders, squishing them together. Sometimes he doesn't realize his own strength and he nearly lifts me off the floor, my feet scraping the wet concrete.

"Don't be ridiculous!" I snap, embarrassed. Love. Such a foolish concept. He releases me and I tug down my jacket, scowling. Kier's face hurts to look at, so I don't.

"You're just scared." He says, sure of himself. He knows me better than I know myself, sometimes. But he's wrong. He has to be! There's no possible way I could feel ... that.

"You're an idiot." I say instead. Don't want to think about it. I don't want anything to change. I've seen relationships girls have my age. All the crying, and the whining, and the stroking of each others ego. I want none of it.

"I'm so sick of this!" Kier shouts. Realize we've stopped in a park. CCTV is trained on us, Mycroft is watching. Would probably go to Kier and sooth him with touch. Don't want my Uncle to have blackmail.

"Sick of what?" I ask. Kier throws his hands in the air and I get a sick feeling. He whirls around. His worn leather jacket lifting a bit. The shirt beneath has a oil stain on the bottom. His jeans are worn and faded, matching the scuffed black combat boots.

"You live in this little world that is just you, Sherlock, and John! When someone tries to get close you just start raising the defenses! You don't give a shit about anything or anyone else! I've known you for almost as long, and you still treat me like I'm a complete stranger!" Kier's ranting, pacing. He has quite the temper, something not many people know. It's difficult to make Kier angry, but somehow I've made it into a sport and I'm the Olympic gold medalist.

"I do-"

"Shut up! Just shut up and listen for once in your life! I've put up with this for so long, and you act like I'm just some annoying sidekick who follows you around! I don't know what you want me to do, how I should act, but I'm trying my best to be patient and wait but it's not working. Everything is the same, and nothing changes. I want more! I need it." How did he not understand? That was what made our relationship perfect. It stayed the same. What more could he want?

"That's the point Kier." I say. Change happens inevitably. But for as long as I can I want to keep what we have. How do I explain? How can I make him see? I don't want to have to lose before it happens with time.

"It's not enough. Call me selfish but I love you, and I want you to love me too." The words are hard to digest. They sound foreign. I look away, the CCTV is trained on my face. Waiting for my reaction.

"This is ridiculous." I choke. I hate this. John and Sherlock are probably being arrested as we speak and Kier wants to have a squabble. The park is silent besides the crickets. The water rushing by the nearby bridge. Far off club music. Kier's thinking. Wants to say something. I look up. His face is broken. I look away. I made him look like that. It was my fault. I feel suddenly very sick.

"You really don't give a damn about me." He says, his voice is weak. Like he has been fighting a war and suddenly found out it was for nothing. He'd lost. But what? I didn't understand!

"Kier, stop. This is stupid." Fuck Mycroft and his CCTV. I walk forward, reaching up to Kier to rest our foreheads together. The bond we share should me eminent with that. He can see, see the things I can't say. How I feel. I don't want him to be my 'boyfriend', what we have is so much more. It's more important! He's my partner. Kier for the first time shakes me off. It hurts.

"No, I can't. I'm done." He turns, walking away with his back hunched against the wind which is picking up.

"Done with what?" I shout. But he doesn't answer me. He just disappears in the night, leaving me cold and alone.


	10. Chapter 10

I do not own BBC Sherlock

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

Done? Done with what! With me? With chasing me? With trying to get me to be his demure little girlfriend who waits patiently until he proposes then breeds for him, a bunch of little spawn running around a picket fence. No thank you! A life of living in solitude with my microscope and my stethoscope. That's all I needed. Well, not all. Who would cook for me? Kier or John usually took care of that. What about clothing? I'd walk out of the house in underwear and a shirt if Kier didn't stop me, and on occasion Sherlock. Who would make sure I got enough sleep? Maybe I could set an alarm. I remember the last alarm I had, John gave it to me for a present. After the sixth ring Sherlock had slammed open my door and helped me smash it with a a metal bar and hammer. Without Kier, I would have trouble coping. The thought sent sparks down my spine. I hated being depended on someone or something. _I hated it_.

"Where's Kier?" John asked on the third day.

"I don't care." I gritted. Scarlett Holmes was dependent on no man! Except her fathers, of course. I was still human. Probably. Even Sherlock looked up at that, a frown tugging on his lips.

"What did he do?" My father asked, more of a statement than a question. Huff, crossing my arms. The action looks impressive on John, his broad chest expanding. My breasts get in the way, annoying things that couldn't be satisfied with an A cup, currently I was a high C. I looked like a petulant child with mounds of fat on my chest.

"He's an idiot." I dismiss, dropping my arms. John gives Sherlock a worried glance.

"Did he ..." John's voice drifts off, he looks upset. Why?

"Did he, what?" I demand. I was brilliant, a genius even but I wasn't a bloody mind reader!

"Did he try an have intercourse with you?" Sherlock suddenly snaps, throwing his book down and stomping over to me. I glare up at him, he has to duck his chin to his chest to look me directly in the eye. Blue blazing eyes were looking down a snub nose. At least John's in the same boat.

"Of course, he's a teenager. His hormones are raging." I inform, slightly interested. Sherlock didn't play the whole protective father card, he'd seen me sleep in the same bed as Kier. Why the sudden change? Sherlock picks up his coat, slipping it on before knotting his blue scarf around his throat.

"Where are you going?" John asks, standing. He looks furious as well. Honestly is chastity so important? I hadn't thought much of it, but I am around the age were I should have already engaged in such acts. I should have experimented with Kier before we ended the partnership.

"To castrate that greasy ape!" My father grits. John nods his head, tugging on his own jacket.

"I'm coming with you." John says curtly. I chase them to the door.

"It doesn't matter! I won't ever speak to him again!" I yell down. They ignore me, charging the door.

* * *

><p>"We couldn't find him." John says, his cheeks rosy from the wind slapping at his handsome face. Soft gray hair is mussed up on his forehead. Sherlock paces his eyes narrowed in concentration. John stops him for a moment and removes his jacket, Sherlock continues.<p>

"Interesting." My father hums. I'm curled up on the couch, sitting wrapped in a sheet with a mug of tea. I look at John for an explanation.

"He's gone, disappeared without a trace. He's already graduated, so it's understandable he might want to travel a bit but he's just vanished. He quite work, his flat is has everything there but some clothes. Credit cards, money, his ID, all still there. It's like he's been kidnapped." My stomach clenches. Moriarty. Touch my phone in my pocket, Moriarty is saved under 'Scottish Twat'. I could call him, demand a meeting. Sherlock had been released from jail, Lestrade had been 'coincidentally' with Sherlock when the actual murder took place, thanks to me. Moriarty hadn't called since my father was released.

"I don't care." I say, standing and disappearing into my room.

* * *

><p>I wake up, slumped in a chair in front of Moriarty. He'd knocked me out? For how long?<p>

"You are a clever, clever girl. Explosively so." Moriarty circles me. The predator and the prey, haven't yet decided which one I'll be.

"I'm aware." I say. He snorts a laugh, Sebastian is looking out the window. He's slender lips turned down just the slightest at the corners. Am I going to die?

"But you fail too see the big fat lie staring you right in the face! It's fantastic! Everything I throw at you, you unravel within seconds. But this, this one thing I practically hand to you on a silver platter and you refuse to see it!" He laughs hard. Sebastian's frown deepens.

"What did you do with Kier?" I ask again. He sighs, looking to Sebastian as if I'm being difficult. Throwing his hands in the air he hops up onto his expensive wooden desk. I was missing something, something vital.

"He's not important, just think! What are you missing? I've told you, but have you listened?" He sang, his feet dangling childishly.

"Tell me." I say, and his fingers twitch. His smile flickers before he drops his head back, his hands splayed behind him on the desk as he looks at Sebastian upside down.

"What if, everything vanished?" Moriarty asks. I swallow thickly, staring at his slim torso. He looks so small, so easy too overcome. He sits up and those dark, terrible eyes focus on me.

"Your family, your friends, your landlady. Even you're lover. What if they were all gone?" Oh God. My pulse quickens as Sebastian's shoulders go steady. He doesn't move an inch. It's like he is Moriarty's conscious. Like how in old cartoon there was an angel and devil who sat propped on your shoulder. It was as if both of them had taken form in Sebastian, he was the part of Moriarty that actually _felt_.

"I don't have a lover, so that would be rather absur-"

"Just imagine, you go home to an empty flat. You think its all a bad dream, and you cry and snivel and look for your Uncle Mycroft but he's gone too. Everyone you can rely on is gone. But there is one person, one person you can go to ..." He says, sliding off the desk. He drops to a knee in front of me, like he is proposing. Sickening. I hunch my shoulders, resisting curling into a ball. I have to look strong.

"You can always come back to me. You're are mine, remember?" He chuckles, his hands holding my face. His thumbs brush over my ear lobes. I choke down the sob, I can't. I can't cry._ I won't_!

"I hate you." It bubbles from my throat, around the tears. I don't mean to say it, I don't want him to have the pleasure of seeing my emotions. To my surprise he doesn't laugh in my face, instead his eyes go wide before dropping to my lap. His hands fall from my face and he pulls back.

"This will teach you a lesson. Don't ever side with the angels when you have horns, Scarlett. They'll see right through you." He says, his voice strangely monotone. I leave the office, going back to the empty flat.

* * *

><p>Sherlock. John. Mrs. Hudson. Lestrade. Donovan. Jenny. Mycroft. Kier. Everyone. Vanished. The rent at 221B is payed for, groceries appear in the fridge. It's almost like everyone is playing an elaborate game of hide and seek. But no one comes when I scream or cry. I'm alone. Sebastian is sent to check on me regularly, although there are cameras watching to make sure I don't try and off myself. Something I considered only for a moment. Moriarty doesn't even bother with me, as if I'm boring to him. So I lay int he flat, not eating, or thinking. Just sleeping. Sleeping takes the hurt away. I can dream of John sitting on the couch, his warm strong fingers idly stroking my hair while he reads. Or Sherlock and me sharing the microscope I stole from Bart's lab a few years ago when I broke his by accident. Kier and me wrestling, arguing over who the best companion was on Doctor Who. But when I wake up, I'm alone.<p>

"Are all teenagers so ... _predictable_?" Slight whine in the smooth, light voice. Moriarty. Ugh, roll over and face the wall.

"Where are they." I ask, my voice sounds cracked and dead. Remotely realize I haven't bathed in nearly a week, which is repulsive. I am a fanatic when it comes to hygiene, but currently I don't care. I do hope I smell, so it can disgust the prissy man standing above me.

"Oh, I thought you were dead. You haven't moved in fourteen hours." Moriarty sounded please. I heard Sebastian let out a breath of relief. Was that why I was so stiff? I was laying in a ball in the center of the living room floor.

"Piss. Off." I wheeze. So weak, probably haven't eaten in far too long. More concerned about taking a shower. Feel gross.

"I have some exciting news. Little Scarlett isn't the only one who can be blackmailed. Papa and Daddy are just returning from the states where you where kidnapped and sent too, they couldn't find a trace." Moriarty mocked. I sit up, and ignore the violent shutter of my muscles. They hadn't been used properly in days.

"Why would they think I was kidnapp- Oh, what I had thought had been minutes had been days. You knocking me out, I mean." I clarify. He sighs, as if I've just complimented him.

"My protegee. Get cleaned up now, you'll still have time to meet them at the airport." He says, exiting the flat. Sabastian stays guard, waiting outside the bathroom while I take a much needed shower. After dressing I follow him to the car waiting. This is a set up. Of course it is, but I can't do anything to stop it. I can't let Sherlock know that I'm okay- Unless of course I let him know I'm okay. Smirk.

* * *

><p>"I have to go to the restroom." I whine childishly. 'Flight one eighty from America will be arriving in two minutes' rings in the air. Sebastian ignores me, his rifle bag at his hip.<p>

"You went to the bathroom at the flat." He says, voice deep. I whine, sliding into the plastic chair. One minute.

"I'm excited, I have to pee." I cry. He grunts, griping my arm.

"Fine, do it fast." He bites out. He leads me to the the bathroom, glance at the receptionist counter, only fifteen feet away. Moriarty has more than Sebastian just watching me, I'm sure. I bet they are surrounded int he crowd, dressed as civilians. The airport security is only six feet away.

"I'm sorry Sebastian." I say. He looks down, opening his mouth to ask a question. I grip the bag, unzipping it and turning it over. The gun equipment clatters to the floor loudly.

"Somebody help! He's a terrorist!" I scream, Sebastian's grip tightens painfully on my arm. A bruise will form. Ouch. The security slam him into a wall, people are screaming and running about. I see six men moving to make a grab at me. I dodge one of them, jumping over the counter of the receptionist desk. Gripping the phone, I smirk as the men pant. Confused looks on their faces.

"Vatican Cameos!" I scream into the phone which echoes it around the airport. Two figures are suddenly running, heads covered. Sherlock holds Johns arm, keeping him close in the chaotic crowd. They're trying to find me while also getting to a safe sport. John got tan on his vacation, if you could call it that. I smile so brightly I think my face is going to split.

'They're safe.' The thought ran through my mind on repeat. My body loosened so much I nearly fell against the men who gripped me, yanking me back over the desk.

"Scarlett!" Sherlock screams. He's looking around, his face frantic in the mill of people. Why so much panic? Sebastian wasn't really a terrorist. It wasn't like the place was going to-

_'You are a clever, clever girl. Explosively so.'_

_'What are you missing? I've told you, but have you listened?'_

Explode.

"Sherlock, John! Run!" I scream as loud as my lungs will let me, the shrillness of it, the panic sweeps over the people. Sherlock and John catch my gaze. All three of us connect, our bodies simultaneously tensing. Sherlock opens his mouth, before we are all engulfed in flames.

* * *

><p>Fire. The smell of sizzling flesh. Choking me, gagging. Thick soot coats my throat like sand. My eyes are burning, burning!<p>

"Scarlett!" Kier? It can't be. Not in an airport. Not possible, not logical. For a moment I'm so sure.

"Sherlock!" The voice morphs. John. Oh God, John. Sherlock, John? I reach out, my fingers touch rubble. Cough, wheeze. My ears are ringing so loudly. But the voice sounded so clear. The dull thrum vanishes to be replaces by shrieks of people dying. Crying children, burning mothers. Men sobbing as their limbs burn. Hell on earth. Get me out. Get me out! I'm lifted up. Feels familiar. Kier? Open my eyes and see the leather covered chest, Sebastian.

"Sebastian." I whisper. His arms lift me a bit, holding me tighter.

"It's okay, I've got you." He says, voice is ringing. My ears feel wet. Blood? Squeeze my scorching eyes shut.

"John, Sherlock." A racked sob from deep in my chest.

"They're alive. It's okay." I fall asleep. Something bumps my forehead right before I fade into oblivion.


	11. Chapter 11

I do not own BBC Sherlock

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

I wake up in a suite. Like something you'd seen on the telly. Whimpering I sit up and hold the clean bandages. My torso is aching, and there is a cut on my forehead which was also bandaged. Ouch. Bruises cover almost my entire body. Brief flashes of me being surrounded under rubble popped into my head, I'd heard it crunching around me as someone called my name. My forearms ached from where I had protected my head. But Sebastian had blocked me, I think.

"Sebastian. Sebastian!" I scream. No one answers and I think I'm alone until the door opens hesitantly.

"What?" He grunts, his voice croaky. He has a black eye and split lip and a brace on his arm. Why is he so annoyed? Oh, the arm that he has injured is the one he uses to shoot his rifle, he must feel vulnerable with it injured.

"You're okay?" I ask, struggling to sit up. He comes into the room, shutting the door behind him.

"You nearly killed us all." Sebastian's voice was withheld anger. I fixed a glare to him, my lips pulled taunt.

"Although I have some skill in explosives, I don't think I'm nearly proficient enough to detonate an entire airport. However, I do appreciate the high regard for my personal talents." The sarcasm in my voice was dripping. Moriarty detonated the bombs, he should be angry with him! Sebastian ran his hand through short wheat colored hair. The room was silent for a few seconds as he paced.

"It was a really stupid thing to do." Sebastian said lowly. It stung his tone of voice. Reminded me of when John was so angry at me he couldn't even yell. I duck my head.

"John and Sherlock-" I ask. Blue eyes glance at me for a moment.

"Alive, still looking for you. Moriarty is having them run all over the city solving crimes he sets up." Sebastian sat down on the edge of the bed. Again it was silent. I toyed with the edge of the expensive looking comforter. I was sitting in the center of the massive bed. I didn't even know they made mattresses so large.

"I didn't mean for you to get hurt. I'm a prisoner here, it's only natural I would try and escape." I say. He looks away.

"Don't start something you can't finish. You might loose something important to you." Sebastian warned, leaving the room.

* * *

><p><em>'Private Detective Sherlock Holmes and his assistant John Watson have been granted citizenship awards for bringing down more then thirty crimes in the last three months.'<em>

_'Mr. Holmes! What is spurring this sudden shift back into the spotlight?'_ A reporter babbled. Sherlock's intense eyes focused on her for a moment, deducing.

_'Something that belongs to me has been stolen, I want it back.'_

_'What has captured Britain's favorite sleuth's attention, he doesn't seem to be willing to offer any more details on the matter. But he assures us that he intends to find this stolen object very soon.'_ The reporter finished. I stared at John's tired face on the screen, he looked worried. He pushed people away as they got too close to Sherlock, as protective as ever. Sherlock seemed indifferent, not even bothered by the attention. He seemed so faraway.

"Scarlett." Sebastian called suddenly. I snapped my face up, warm tears were sitting in my eyes. Quickly blinking them back I remove my fingers from the TV screen. I'd been touching their faces like a pitiful child.

"Are you ready?" Sebastian asks. My seventeenth birthday was two weeks ago. Moriarty had sent me a cake. It had been terrible.

"Yes." I answer, smoothing the form fitting black dress. My breasts are pushed out and my hair curled loosely. I have light makeup on, other than the vibrant red lipstick, matching the red heels. I allow Sebastian to escort me to the jet. Within thee hours I'm in a new city somewhere I don't know. I'm led downstairs to a room full of men.

"Good evening, miss." A man blurts. Annoying. I ignore him, taking a seat at the head of the table.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." I say, my tone curt and border line dull. I cross my legs and flash a smile to the room full of men twice my age. Some are mob bosses, others working for criminal cells, a few are even rouge agents.

"We're in need of a new strategy gentlemen. It seems that twenty eight idiots still can't get a job done, no matter how simple." I say, inspecting the red nail polish lavished on the tiny bed of nails on the tips of my fingers. I glance at the body guards surrounding the room. Black is a large African-American man who had gold teeth, he's ridiculously good at reading peoples motives. Tech is a hacker who follows me around in case a building is shut down and I'm stuck inside, he's the one who can override the system and get me out. Sebastian is called Snipe in public, Moriarty likes his employees to have aliases. Seb is the head body guard of course. Another man who I don't know as well as the others wears an all black suit, head to toe covered. They call him X, but he seems to be another mercenary Jim hired to protect me. He's known to do the dirty work for Jim.

"... the man can be assassinated as soon as your put on your lipstick in the crowd." A man finished his idea. It was clever, no way they could prove it was me. I lean back in my chair.

"You expect me to walk into the center of a crowd while the president of Somalia gives his speech and you have a gun aimed at my head? I don't think so. We were hired to kill this man yesterday, but he's still alive. Do you know how that makes me look?" I ask. The man was actually supposed to be dead by this weekend, but I like to keep ahead of schedule. The President was a peaceful man, reforming his country for the greater good. He had just brought down a dictator, but they were still at odds. His death would send their country back into the pits of hell, and I would be the one to deliver them.

"Miss." A baritone voice murmured in my ear. Black? He rarely spoke.

"What?" I asked, the men were discussing.

"The man with the orange tie at the end of the table, he's a spy." Black said, his heavy lidded eyes blinking dully. His American accent with a heavy southern drawl.

"Then take care of it." I sigh. He nods, and the spy vanishes while I snap to get the others attention.

"One of my men will kill the President, I need three men in the crowd. All at these vantage points, then I want one of you at least to infiltrate his office and get the documents we discussed. It's going to be over ninety degrees out, I want another man to be working for a news crew and then faint. This will draw enough attention without having them shuffle the president offstage. That is when my man will take the hit, then we get out of there." I inform.

"By we you mean our five men, and your single one?" A middle aged man challenged. I raise an eyebrow. Sebastian stiffens at my side.

"And here I thought I was being courteous offering my second best sniper." I toss back, the man backs down. X will do the hit, Sebastian has been mostly reassigned to be my bodyguard since his injured arm.

"I'm fine with it." A man starts out shakily. I smirk at him, steeping my fingers beneath my lips like I'd seen my father do a thousand times.

"Does anyone have any objections?" I ask, my tone amused. These men are idiots, all of them. Jim needs them for resources, most will provide information while the other men provide thugs. They cover Moriarty's ass while doing all the dirty work. They even pay him. Well, me now.

"Good." I say, standing. I feel the stares on my back, something that has been happening even more often now that I've been assigned a makeup artist and wardrobe assistant from Jim.

"Um, one last thing miss." A man peeps sheepishly. I look over my shoulder with a stern frown. Sebastian's looming over my shoulder like a large protective shadow.

"I was under the impression that you where a man," He started. When I raised an eyebrow at him, he flushed a bright red and began stuttering.

"No, no! I mean it's obvious that _you_ aren't a man, I mean you have a lot of curves! I didn't mean to suggest you were a transvestite, cause' you're obviously not-" X picked up the bumbling idiot by the collar while Tech snorted, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Spit it out." Tech said, his nasally voice annoyed. He was more impatient than even me. His floppy blonde hair hung over his eyes, parted down the center in a way that reminded me of Anderson, but a far cuter version.

"I always thought that Moriarty was a man!" The moron scrambled to answer. I placed a hand on my hip and laughed.

"Well, maybe if you're lucky I can prove you just how wrong you are." I wink, he swallows thickly and I leave the room. X throws him into a chair, Tech and Black both following me out.

* * *

><p>"You're doing a fabulous job of playing me." Moriarty sang, sitting on the edge of his desk. I look out the window with a sigh.<p>

"You've taken over nearly half the business, you attend all my important meetings in my place, and you even have the loyalty of my most wild employees." Moriarty hums.

"Probably because I treat them like humans, rather than freak shows." I mutter. He continues, not even pausing.

"My business is booming. I'm raking in money, and your father can barely keep up with all your brilliant schemes. You were born to be bad, my dear." He chuckles leaning in close to me. I tap my nails on my thigh. Tedious. I wish Tech was here to make a snarky comment, or dry joke. Or Black to ask if I needed anything in his subdued voice. X to just stand there silently, but encouragingly protective. Sebastian was the only one left who still belonged to Jim. Sebastian adored Jim.

"I want this to end. This couldn't have been your plan, to bully me here with threats and attention grabbing stunts. You have to have a reason." I say, uncrossing then recrossing my legs when it draws his attention to my thighs peeking from beneath the short blue and black dress.

"To be honest, I'd planned on killing you. I'd wanted to allow Sherlock to see how his daughter betrayed him and then have him watch while you were killed. But that seems so pedestrian now, you're the obvious prize." He sighs, giving me a syrupy look. I ignore his dramatic speech.

"All the thefts? Stealing Big Ben's clock hand? Writing my name on the bridge? What was it all for?" I ask. Moriarty frowns at me, he's not pleased that I haven't figured it out. He's even more demanding of my intellect than my father.

"Those had nothing to do with you. I was testing a new recruit is all, seeing if he was as good as he said he was. I wanted to see if you would fall for it. But that isn't important, what is important is that you keep up the good work." He smiles, it's oddly cute. Moriarty is an evil, vile human being. But the charm that sometimes slides through when he isn't being a complete psycho is strange.

"And if I don't?" I ask, looking to the outside world. Some pigeons fly across the vast window. He groans, as if I've said something especially boring. Which I have, because I already know the truth.

"Then I'll kill Sherlock and John." He drones, flopping back onto his desk as if I sucked the life from him. Standing I exit his office as he begins to rant.

* * *

><p>God this was boring. The stylist Moriarty had hired for me was insisting we go out shopping for new dresses. She liked them tight, short, and simple. But today we needed a long dress, I was attending the Dictator's banquet with Moriarty. He informed me to get a lavender dress so I could match his tie. The thought was so humiliating I almost blushed in front of him, which would have been the biggest mistake. Ever.<p>

"I love this, it has the whole greek goddess feel." Sas said, despite me practically replacing Moriarty in nearly all of his departments, he still insisted I didn't know the employees names. Like my other staff members, Moriarty had given her a ridiculous title. Sas was short for 'Shoes and stuff'.

"I hate mythology, it's irrelevant." I grunt. She rolls her eyes and shoves me into the dressing room, stripping me rapidly. Sebastian is sitting outside, looking very uncomfortable in a woman's store.

"Do you hate everything that isn't numbers and science?" Sas asks, smiling at me prettily. I scowl as she struggles to fit the dress over my breasts, then hitting another road block at my wide hips.

"It's supposed to hug your curves." She assures. I glare at her through my hair.

"Yes, and 'hugging' isn't the same as gorging flesh into a sleeve of cloth like dough into a can." I hiss. She roars with laughter and I inhale sharply before pulling down the dress. It does fit, once getting over the a few large bumps. It's a lovely dress, with a classic feel to it. It's sleeves are twisted ropes over my shoulders , while the cloth drapes down the sides of my ribs to show nearly my entire back. The light cloth picks up again right above my rear. Ribbon is laced like 'X's' down the back, reminding me of a ballerina shoe. It hangs to the ground in a puddle of fabric.

"You look stunning." She sighs, lifting my hair off my shoulders. I shrug. Don't care really. It is a pretty dress, but it would look better on someone without curves. I step out into the store.

"Sebastian?" I call. He looks up from where he was examining a narrow stiletto heel, probably wondering if he could double it as a weapon. His eyes widen a fraction.

"Nice." He says curtly, ducking his head once again to examine the shoes. I go to the store window, spinning once and raising my thumbs and then dropping them down. 'Yes or No?'. A sniper light flashes on my chest once and I smile. 'Yes.' from X. Black and Tech where accompanying Moriarty on a trip he had before the banquet.

"Three yes's, bag it up." I order, shimming halfway out of the dress before I reach the dressing room. Sebastian gives a squawk of disapproval and I laugh.

* * *

><p>"I miss you ..." I say into the phone. It's stupid but I've been calling Kier's phone nightly, leaving messages on the machine I know he'll never receive them. Moriarty won't tell me what he did with him. Not having Kier with me is like missing a piece of myself.<p>

"Our fight was stupid." I say into the silence. It had been. Stupid that is. If Kier wanted to call me his 'girlfriend' what did I care? As long as he stuck around. I didn't even mind the kissing.

"I wish ..." I hang up the phone, dropping it beside me. The message machine is like my audio diary. I've been confiding into it nightly. I hear Sebastian's heavy footfalls outside of my door, taking up his nightly post. Black had left barely three minutes ago switching off. I open the door, pulling him inside.

"I want to- X?" I frown. The man stands stiffly. He's wearing his all black suit, reminding me of a ninja. He even has on gloves.

"Sorry, I thought you were Sebastian. The man shrugs, ducking his head meekly. We're silent for a moment as I examine his costume. Not even Tech had seen his face, rumor was it he had been brutally burned. The suit protected him from skin infections.

"It has to get hot in there, let me see your face." I say playfully. X steps away. He's a tall man, looming over me with a thick boxy build. He never speaks. Ever.

"I'm practically your boss, I should see whose standing outside of my door every night." I say, he steps back outside and I slam the door.

"Tell me when Sebastian comes!" I shout. He doesn't reply.

* * *

><p>"How do you not understand? Should I try and alter my brilliant equations into addition and subtraction for your tiny little mind to comprehend!" Tech screeched. I laid a hand on his shoulder, frowning at him.<p>

"Tech, you can't yell at the engineers because they don't understand your scribbles." I say glancing at the man who was huffily redrawing the weapon he and Tech were working on building for Moriarty. It was a fascinating twists of metal and would surely bring devastation to millions if Jim sold it to the military like he planned too.

"Scribbles? Scribbles! You of all people should understand my frustration with having to work with _stupid people_!" Tech's voice raised towards the end of the sentence so the engineer could hear. The man glared at him. I hook a finger under his chin and his scrawny shoulders tighten, he glanced down at me. His body wiry and tall.

"Can you work with him, for me?" I ask in my best sultry voice. Tech hesitates before nodding. It's something one of the many classes Moriarty forces me to attend taught me. Using my 'womanly' charms.

"Fine, but don't expect it to be finished anytime this century." Tech grunts. I flash him a smile as I head to the door.

"I need it done in a month." I call over my shoulder, his mouth falls open and his eyes go wide.

"Miss Moriarty!" He protests as the door shuts behind me. Outside Black and X are waiting. I nod to Black and glare at X. He is supposed to be filling in for Sebastian, which I do not like at all. Sebastian reminds me of Kier enough that it helps ebb the loneliness. Plus I like his company.

"Where is Sebastian?" I demand. Neither answer. I stomp down the hallway, only to find Moriarty's door locked. I bang my knuckles on it.

"Jim, open up!" I yell. There's no noise inside, probably because every room is sound proof. It takes a few minutes of my beating but finally it opens up. Sebastian looks down at me, his hair messed up and his lips swollen.

"Oh." I say taking a step back. Sebastian's cheeks go pink while Jim spins in his chair behind his desk.

"I told you she would know right away!" Moriarty giggles.

"What do you need?" Sebastian mutters. I glare up at him, the big idiot.

"Nothing, you can go back and bend over the desk for your boss." I spit. His eyes narrow dangerously. Moriarty is laughing from behind.

"I'm actually the one who bends ov-"

"Shut up Jim." Both me and Sebastian snap. Moriarty giggles into his hand.

"You better watch your mouth." Sebastian says, standing at his full height to try and intimidate me. It sort of works, seeing as he is nearly two feet taller then myself.

"Or what? You can't snipe me with your arm like tha-" He moves to grab my me, probably to shake me a bit. X moves so quickly he's like a blur. X has to be some monk from Asia who had special ninja training. He blocks Sebastian easily, they engage in a glaring contest.

"Sebastian is mine. If you don't like X then I can give you a new bodyguard." Moriarty says, coming to Sebastian's side. Black is lurking behind the group. He's nervous, he dislikes being too close to Moriarty, with good reason. I don't answer so Moriarty continues.

"You like Sebastian because he reminds you of your little boyfriend, doesn't he? I can get your a replacement for the boy." Moriarty leers, grinning widely. I glare at him and step back from X and Sebastian who are still both glaring at each other.

"The only person I want is Kier." I snap. Jim's eyes go enormous and he doubles over in a fit of laughter. I don't know why he finds that so funny but it irks me and I stomp away. Black and X follow close behind.

* * *

><p>"How could you not know Sebastian was sticking it up Moriarty's-" I cut Tech off.<p>

"I never say them like that. I thought they were just friends." I smolder. I missed Sebastian. I'm sure it was part of Moriarty's plan to let me form a bond with someone here and then rip them away, as if Kier and my parents weren't enough.

"Moriarty practically molests him in public." Tech mutters, igniting the blow torch and melting the metal together.

"Yeah well, he's like that with me too. I thought he was touchy and needy with everyone." I comment. Tech looks up from behind his goggles, eyes confused.

"He can barely stand even being in the same room as people. I've never seen him act like that. More like ruthless and fruity as all hell- Hey boss!" Tech yelped. Moriarty ignored him as he entered the room. Sebastian close behind.

"You have a meeting in twenty minutes, why aren't you dressed?" Moriarty asked, tapping his foot impatiently. This was strange, usually the small man had someone else come and drag me to his office.

"I'm not going." I say. His slim eyebrows raise in surprise before narrowing in irritation.

"Did you forget our deal?" He asks, trying to keep his temper in check. I lean back on the work table. He eyes my bust appreciatively. For a gay guy he sure inspects my body religiously.

"I want to know where Kier is. Now." I demand. It's best to be direct with Jim, even if he is a bomb waiting to explode if you even word one sentence wrong. I've noticed he isn't as ... fragile with me. Sometimes he throws fits for the smallest things if other people are involved. It's why he sends me to do his business, he's not very good at keeping his temper.

"He'd dead." Moriarty smiles. I inhale sharply and slowly look to Sebastian. God what a stupid joke. He had to be joking. Right? My stomach knotted so tightly I thought I might vomit. The blonde gives me a sad small nod, and it's all I need to know he _isn't_ lying.

"But-" Dead? Just like that? It couldn't be. Kier was so important to me, his death should at least be climactic. Maybe dying in my arms or being shot by a bad guy. But learning like this? From the mouth of my captor? I shake my head and stumble back, knocking over some of Tech's equipment. Black holds me up, his solid body easily supporting mine.

"Sugar bun-" He drawls, his soft southern accent worried. I realize warm tears are streaming down my face but the humiliation is nothing compared to the pain. Moriarty seems giddy. He'd been trying to make me cry for awhile now.

"How?" A violent sob racks my body, I pull away from black hatefully. I don't want anyone to touch me. Tech and X are standing silently in the corner of the lab. It hurts so so much. I want to go in my room and cry. I want to let out big wailing screams until someone tells me it was a joke and he was working under a car, or watching football on the couch with John, or sitting at the kitchen table and asking my dad questions about his work. Anything but this. Please no.

"I killed him so I could see your reaction." Moriarty shrugged daintily. I looked at Black who bite his lip. Jim wasn't lying. Black could read anyone. Kier was dead. I smother my face in agony.


	12. Chapter 12

I do not own BBC Sherlock

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

The day blurs away, soon the work sucks up any feelings I have. Moriarty is running me ragged on all his schemes. If I say no, John and Sherlock die. I can't show how I feel, I can't let Moriarty see. I know my pain only brings him pleasure so I subdue it. I stuff it down into the deepest part of my being. I go numb.

"Ready?" The earphone buzzes into my head.

"Yes." I murmur. The suit is tailored to fit me well. Hiding any curve that may not be completely covered by the bindings holding them down. My hair is pulled into a ponytail and flipped over my shoulder. Moriarty doesn't want to completely trick my father, it would take prosthetic's and wedged shoes for that. He just wants him to think for a second that I am indeed Moriarty. I stand in the dingy car park. The lights flickering somewhere far enough away to obscure my form. Footsteps, a single pair. John's not with him, good. I don't know if I can handle them both looking upon me with the soon to be hate in their eyes. I slide my hands casually into the slacks, ducking my head. My father stands silent behind me.

"Wha-" Thirty seconds. It took him that little of time to realize it wasn't Moriarty.

"Great day for a murder, wouldn't you say?" I call, using my best Moriarty tone. I don't even need the script they've given me. I know Moriarty's speech and mannerisms well. I turn around. Sherlock's eyes go wide. I keep my face steady, using the recent pain of Kier's death to help tamper down any emotion. I want to Sherlock, wrap him in a hug and beg him to take me home to John. But I can't.

"Scarlett." He frowns. I favor my right leg, smirking.

"You've been solving the cases rapidly, bravo." I sing, using the taunting tone I've heard a thousand times. Sherlock gives me a wry smile, a short harsh chuckle leaves his throat.

"The criminals, they kept saying Miss Moriarty. I thought he might have had a sex change." Sherlock admitted. I smile back, breaking character for a moment.

"Wouldn't of been too much of a leap." I counter and he laughs honestly. He takes a step forward and the buzz in my ear sounds in warning.

"Stop." I order. He obeys, his long legs halting their stride. He looks at me wearily.

"How is he blackmailing you? Our lives?" '_Exactly_.' I want to answer. Pain in my chest. Instead I sigh heavily, and stare at the damp cement ceiling.

"Nothing so dull, I want to work for him. It's exhilarating." I answer, and to be honest it is. My mind is constantly challenged with new data, forcing me to expand my intellect rapidly. But none of its worth John or Sherlock. None of it. I let the truth slip into my voice, selling it to him. His eyes narrow.

"You warned us at the airport, you were trying to escape." He says, his voice tight. He doesn't want to believe it. Doesn't want to think his own daughter has betrayed him. I haven't. I would never. But I have to put on a good show. The more entertained Moriarty is the more chance of John and Sherlock surviving.

"Before the fun happened." I shrug with indifference. Sherlock is angry now.

"John wouldn't believe that." He scowls. He always turns to John's mentality when he is at a loss, he tries to see how John would handle such stressful situations that demand something akin to emotion. I grin at him like a shark, I know I must look slimy. I must look exactly like Moriarty.

"But you would." I challenge. He grits his teeth, his curls bouncing as he looks away sharply. The silence in the car park is deafening.

"No," He says strongly, the sound of his voice holding so much conviction is strange. I've only ever heard the tone when he was proving himself correct on one of his cases or deductions, never something relating to actual belief in another human.

"You wouldn't betray John and I." He finishes, his eyes daring me. I slip for a moment, my eyes going wide with shock. It's enough and all the tension in his body floats out. He keeps his face stern, like he is still trying having trouble taking it in. But that flash of emotion on my face gave him everything he needed to know. He trusts me.

"I would, and I have. Funny thing about betrayal, to break someones trust you have to have actually trusted them in the first place. I don't think you'd ever be that foolish, _daddy_." I slither out the word. Sherlock plays along so well I'm not sure if he still believes me. But this is Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes. My father. He knows I would never betray him. I'm sure of it.

"Where is Moriarty?" He demands, eyes blazing. He doesn't like how I'm speaking, thinks I'm being forced. I wonder if he knew I was saying these awful things on impulse if he would be impressed or repulsed?

"You're looking at em'." I wink.

* * *

><p>"Brilliant! Absolutely wonderful!" Moriarty cries, clapping wildly as I enter his office. I struggle with the breasts binding and Sebastian blushes.<p>

"Criminal mastermind spending his time breaking up families, aren't you just terrifying." I snap. His eyes narrow.

"But breaking you is just so much fun." Moriarty grinned, his eyes still narrow. Anger burns in my chest.

"You'll never break me." I grit. His eyes dance and he smiles.

"Oh? But I already have." He laughs. Bastard.

* * *

><p>I'm sitting on the rooftop of the building I live in. It's basically a prison with curtains and marble floors. I'm folded up against the wind, sitting on the thick ledge of the concrete roof. If I jumped I wouldn't survive. I remember reading the old newspaper articles of my father doing the same thing. He never did tell me how he passed it off as a suicide. I wished he had, maybe at this moment I could do the same thing. I could pretend to be dead and carted away. I could run off to some foreign country and leave a anonymous message on John's blog. They could come and find me. Save me.<p>

"How are you going to just stand there?" I sigh. I don't not need saving. I'm not a child anymore, and I'm not an idiot. I can save myself, I think. X shuffles his feet, silent. I scuff my foot over the edge and watch some pebbles fall aimlessly to the ground below.

"I never thought I'd be so caught up in this world. I always thought it was my father who was important. I never even considered I was valuable." I mutter. Silence.

"That's probably the worst part ..." I say. I teeter, looking over the edge. If I just leaned forward a fraction, it could be over. Strong hands grip my shoulders.

"I don't hate this at all. I'm enjoying organizing the heists, having the power to control men who run counties I've never even heard of. I love the puzzles, how difficult it is to read these criminals and their motives. I love it all. I love how important I am." I drop my head against my knees. The hands still on my shoulders.

"I'm as terrible as Moriarty." I whisper. X says nothing.

"I only wish he didn't have control of me. That's what I hate, I hate being his tool."

"Then fight back." X says. His voice is choked and deep, like he's trying to disguise it. Maybe the burns affect his throat. I instantly think back to John, telling me to fight for myself. To never give up. I smile.

"Okay."

* * *

><p>Moriarty's hand slides up and down my hip as he speaks. I'm standing by his side in the pale purple dress that reveals every bump on my body. Moriarty looks handsome in a fitted dark suit and matching purple tie. His hair is slicked back and his teeth freshly whitened as he speaks to the dictator he helped overthrow Somalia.<p>

"And who might this be?" The man hummed, his voice thick and gooey. His dark skin made his white smile stand out sharply.

"My protegee, Scarlett Moriarty." Moriarty introduces. My name paired with him makes bile rise in my throat. The man takes my hand, brushing his lips over my knuckles. I wipe my wet hand on Moriarty's suit discreetly.

"Your wife is so young and beautiful." The man chuckled approvingly. I flinched, the way Moriarty was touching me there was no way someone could assume I was his daughter.

"Children are the future." Moriarty cackled. Sherlock had contact with me. Using someone from his homeless network to 'accidentally' bump into me on the street. They slipped a paper into my pocket, giving me helpful details for what I was about to do. I ignored both the men, glancing up at the railing. He signaled me.

"_Darling_, I need to go powder my nose." I drawl sarcastically. Jim frowns disapprovingly, he thinks I act childish sometimes. He's one to talk.

"Hurry up." He sends me off with a pat on the rear which I have to force everything in me to not reel around and slam my fist in his face. Hurriedly I ascend the stairs.

"Is everything ready?" I whisper. Tech nods, he's sweating profusely. I don't blame him.

"This is crazy! Jim Moriarty is always prepared, he'll see right through us and have our heads!" Tech whined. I shove him aside, mounting the projector on the balcony railing. There were representatives from all over the world here, trying to negotiate peace with the Dictator we had just restored to power. The British prime minister was milling around with his wife. It was perfect.

"Lights." I snap. Tech hurriedly flickers them down from his phone. The man is a genius. A large light shines on me from where Tech presses it on.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." I start nervously. Jim stands in the center of the crowd, talking to an American representative. Everyone looks up.

"Somalia has been in a civil war for years. President Ahmed brought his country into a time of peace after years of suffering. Many of you are wondering how he could have been overthrown by the Dictator that he defeated four years ago. The answer to that question is the man before you, James Moriarty!" I shouted. Tech directed a second spotlight to light him up as he made his way to the exit. He stood stark still, a slow grin spreading over his face. I caught him. He couldn't leave now with all eyes on him.

"Here are the plans of invasion that Moriarty procured, along with loans of money and weapons for the rebels to overtake President Ahmed's military. If you think this is James Moriarty's first time assisting in catastrophic events then you are _dead_ wrong." My voice rings loud above the murmuring people. The slideshow shows all of the blueprints, receipts, and plans that Moriarty ensued.

'_I need you to assassinate the President before the eighth ... I don't care, just do it!' _Moriarty's voice echoed from the speakers.

"I have evidence proving that he was the one to directly call for the President's murder." I reply.

_'All the thefts? Stealing Big Ben's clock hand? Writing my name on the bridge? What was it all for?' _My voice is now in the room, I sound upset.

_'I was testing a new recruit is all, seeing if he was as good as he said he was.' _Moriarty is amused.

"Him defacing iconic British monuments were merely a test for one of his future employees." I spit, this instantly catches the Prime Ministers interest, his face turns red with anger.

_'Mr. Moriarty, she seems to be signaling her father.' _A guards voice replies, it's from the day at the airport.

_'Blow it up!" _Moriarty screeches.

"The phone call that exploded the London Airport, killing hundreds, and injuring thousands." I continue. People are in an outrage. Moriarty is being held down as he stares up at me, smirking.

_'I want to know where Kier is. Now.'_ I demand, the conversation from a couple of weeks ago sprouting up from the speakers.

_'He'd dead.'_ You can hear the smile in his voice.

_'How?'_

_'I killed him so I could see your reaction.'_

"And for brutally murdering people for his own pleasure. I charge James Moriarty for conspiring to commit crimes against peace, waging wars of aggression, robbery, and crimes against humanity." James looks at me with a maddening grin.

"Good!" He laughs, struggling weakly against his captors. The dictator is also being held.

"One thing though!" He calls over his shoulder as he is being hauled from the lavish room. I knew it wouldn't be that easy, he's too smart and cautious. John and Sherlock are in trouble. He has a plan. I can feel it, I can see it in his eyes.

"What did I miss?" I demand from the balcony. He kicks at a man restraining him. I see X drop down and shove the men aside. I stare in shock as X easily battles the men away, gripping Moriarty by the arm as he tries to make a getaway. Moriarty holds his ground and rips the mask from X's face.

"Your little boyfriend isn't dead." Pale brown eyes frantically scanning for more enemies. Slender lips parted as he inhales sharp breathes. His large hand stays on Moriarty, protective of him. Short blonde-brown hair is sticking up wildly, his chiseled face damp.

"No one seems to get the joke. X; like ex-boyfriend." Jim explains. But his words are thousands of miles away.

"Kier." I whisper. Our eyes connect.


	13. Chapter 13

I do not own BBC Sherlock

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

Kier helped Moriarty escape. They were gone. Together. I hail a cab and have the man drive me to 221B. It takes a an hour to get there, the entire time I'm thinking of how Moriarty could use his jet to wiz passed me and get to my parents first. Kier. He's been popping into my head for the last half hour. Ignore it. I need to concentrate. I need to think.

"Thanks." I mutter, handing a wad of cash to the cabbie. 221B looks unchanged, I hurriedly enter, the door is unlocked, like usual. The stairway is cold, the air dark and heavy. I slowly ascend the them. Music. My father is playing the violin.

"She hasn't tried to contact you?" John demands, pacing. He's wearing his ridiculous knitted jumper, and worn jeans. His hair is damp from his recent shower, he has ink stains on his arm from the wanted posters he's spread all over the city. A fresh pile he has printed up with my face on them.

"Sherlock, will you _please_ listen?" John shouts, but the violin doesn't stop. I watch them, still half hidden behind the door frame. It's strange to see them without me. I'd always thought they didn't need me, but John looks strained. Even Sherlock's playing is more tense.

"Scarlett." Sherlock suddenly says, halting the music. He looks at me, and I look back. It's easy to hold back tears when my fathers around. Years of trying to mimic his behavior has made it easy. John doesn't notice, he's looking at his socked feet as he paces.

"Yes, Scarlett! She could have been captured again, or worse! What if it didn't go according to plan, what if she is hurt?" John rambles.

"John-" Sherlock intervenes.

"She's still just a girl, Moriarty is a genius. She's in danger, I know it." John bites his lip nervously.

"I am not a child, John. I resent you not having more faith in me." I call. John's head whips up. Instantly tears well in his eyes, unlike me and my father John shows emotion without restraint.

"Scarlett!" He cries, stomping across the loft and scooping me up like when I was a girl. I'm squished against his solid chest. Tedious. Annoying. I'm lying. I bask in it. I hate how much I love it. I bury my face in his soft graying hair. His freshly shaven cheek is still textured against mine.

"You're safe." He laughs, I'm not sure if he realizes he's lifted me from the ground. John is quite sturdy and strong.

"Obviously." I mutter against his chest, he laughs into my hair. Sherlock appears behind his shoulder.

"But we're not." Sherlock hums. I look up at him, the lower half of my face still mushed against John.

"Pack your bags. I've got you a aeroplane waiting for you near the Thames." I say. John recoils, his hands still on my shoulders.

"What?" He gasps.

"You've stolen one of his aeroplanes?" Sherlock said, his voice approving. I smirk up at him, I'd almost forgotten how tall he was.

"Borrowed." I correct, his lip kicks up at the corner.

"What's going on?" John demands. I focus on him, his eyes are still wet and his cheeks flushed.

"You and Sherlock are going to South America." I inform. Sherlock's eyes widen with surprise. There are thousands of specimens he can study in the rain forests, he's been wanting to visit for some time.

"Without you?" John gives a short humorless laugh, his fingers dig into my flesh.

"I don't think so." He snaps, disbelieving and disapproving.

"I thought you might argue." I sigh, pulling the needle from my pocket and quickly flicking off the top. John yelps as I aim for his arm. Sherlock grips my wrist.

"We're not going." He announces. Annoyance. I knew I should have brought two syringes, both of them are protective bastards. Sherlock promised he would go along, I should have known better than to trust him.

"You promised." I scowl.

"Did you just try to drug me?" John shouts, stumbling away. We both ignore him.

"I'm not leaving my daughter to battle my archenemy." Sherlock grunts. John's tugging at his sleeve like a child being ignored.

"She tried to _drug_ me!"

"Don't be ridiculous! My life isn't the one at stake here, you are both in danger!" I'm pissed. Why can't they just be cooperative? If only Kier wasn't a backstabbing traitor, I could have him help me drug them both and carry them downstairs.

"In danger of being drugged by a _insane_ teenager!"

"We've faced Moriarty for years. I know him well enough to predict his actions. You're his newest obsession, he won't kill us because it will damage you psychologically. You won't be of any use to him then." Sherlock interjected.

"Okay." I mutter. But I have to go meet with Moriarty. I have to make sure he'll strike up a deal, even though I've corrupted him and his business.

* * *

><p>I smooth the dress, it's a solid black with a neckline. The straps lift my breasts making them appear larger. John's going to throw a fit. He's never seen me dress so scantily. but I'm going to see Moriarty, I need to look my best. It puts him in a better mood. I quickly apply makeup, not as much as Jim likes but enough. Pale pink lipstick and leaving my hair naturally wavy. The heels clink loudly as I walk down the hall.<p>

"Scarlett- what the _hell_ are you wearing?" John demands, dropping his newspaper in his lap. Sherlock doesn't even bother to look up from his experiment which involves a cage full of rats.

"Clothes," I reply. "I'm borrowing your jacket." I inform Sherlock.

"Hmm." He hums distractedly. I'm not so confident where I can walk the streets in such ... adult clothing. I'm sure others wouldn't find it so risque, but John and Sherlock both tend to be more conservative in their dressing. That's how I was raised. I glare as Sherlock's long coat nearly touches the floor on my small frame. The sleeves hang from my arms. Quickly I roll them up.

"Scarlett, where are you going?" John asks, standing. I hobble down the stairs, the cab outside is already waiting for me. Damn. Pain. I nearly twisted my ankle. High heels are surely a form of torture.

"Scarlett!" John yells.

"Bye!" I call back.

* * *

><p>I can't find Moriarty anywhere! He's already sold the building were he ran his criminal business, the entire place is empty. I check some of the safe houses but they are also abandoned. To top it off Sherlock and John are out running around while I haven't even got Moriarty to agree for their protection. Mrs. Hudson returned the other day from a cruise she didn't even remember sighing up for in the raffle.<p>

Lestrade, Jenny, and their other family members sent to Germany after also winning a trip. Jenny left me notice that just happened to 'vanish'. Mycroft had been held up in the states by a very precarious government situation that needed his attention immediately. They were all back. Except Kier. Sherlock had it figured out, but neither of us had told John. John was assuming the boy was still kidnapped. Moriarty should be entering soon. I sent him a message.

"You do know my mobile number still? Should I write it down for you, or will all your messages be strung across buildings?" Moriarty asked, entering the flat as if he owned it. I flush, I hadn't even bothered with his mobile. I'd assumed he's shut it off.

"It's more fun that way." I acknowledge. I've set out some tea for him. Earl Gray, his favorite. Pouring him some I hand him the cup, which he sips carefully.

"This is fun, like the good old days. Just you and me. I have missed you, my pet." He smiles over the rim, resting the saucer and cup on his knee. The suit he is wearing looks new, all his suits look new.

"I hardly doubt you've come alone, were is Sebastian? The adjacent building? Has his arm healed all right?" I ask, confirming with my eyes when I see a shadow in one of the windows. I nod to him. But there is no reply. When I look back to Moriarty his dark eyes are glittering.

"My clever girl." He says tenderly.

"You should have invited him in, it's chilly out today." I take a seat in my fathers chair, curling up in a ball.

"Maybe next time, I wanted to see you alone." He says, opening his arm for what appears to be a hug. I hesitate, settling with a frown. Strange. Why would he think I'd hug him? Should I hug him? Will he agree to my parents safety? Jim drops his arm and sips his tea, as if he never offered the invitation.

"Where's X?" I ask, frowning at the name. He wasn't Kier to me. Kier was mine, my friend. X was the backstabber, the fake. X was who Kier truly was. I clung to the memory of Kier. My only true friend.

"Doing a hit, he's quite good. I've had to rent him out a couple of times. My other protegee. It hurts to see the two of you squabbling so. I'd been hoping the both of you would breed, I'd like to study the outcome of your offspring." Moriarty confides. Hatred nearly spills over, I almost scream at him. But quickly I reign it in. Not before he sees my face though. Sigh.

"You're pinning us against each other. We are on equal grounds now. It's round two. You and Sherlock went head to head years ago and it was a tie. Now you'll see who can raise the most brilliant child, Sherlock or you. But why allow me to work with you, to get some of your insight?" I ask, rubbing my forehead. It's all so dull. Moriarty is gripping the edge of John's chair, he looks overcome with delight. He laughs with merriment at my deduction.

"The boy has had insight into Sherlock's mind, I thought it to only be fair that I allow you some of mine." Moriarty sits back in his seat, as if I've just given him a rich meal.

"I want John and Sherlock's safety guaranteed." I say. Jim folds his hands in his lap.

"They aren't relevant to the game." Jim flicks his wrist, as if swatting the idea from in front of him.

"Make them relevant!" I shout. Moriarty doesn't look convinced. I think rapidly.

"Kier has both you and Sebastian as mentors. Brain and brawn. I demand I get equal rights." I challenge. Moriarty is pleased, he shakes his head as if I'm a gift he's been given.

"I should penalize you for that little stunt you pulled at the banquet." Moriarty chastises, his black eyes dancing. He opens his arm and I move across the short distance, sitting on his knee. He curls a hand around my waist. I must admit, I'd expected a larger outcome. He's blackmailed most of the leaders to stop pursuing him and killed the rest.

"Being punished for taking full advantage of my resources? I think I should be rewarded." I coax. He's rubbing my hip through the tight dress.

"Good." He praises my reasoning. He leans forward and for a moment I think he might kiss me, which normally I'd object too. But currently I'm so relieved at knowing John and Sherlock are safe I could care less what he does to my body.

"So I can keep them?" I ask, his lips are close to mine. I can smell the gum in his mouth, his small white teeth appear between his lethal smile.

"Yes." He slides a hand over my back and leans back with a sigh. No kiss then? Good. Most people would probably be horrified at the idea, I just find it uncomfortable to be so close to someone I despise.

"If only I were ten years younger. Even then, I suspect Sebastian would disapprove." Moriarty laughs as a red sniper sight appears on his chest threateningly. I'd forgotten Sebastian was watching. Oh, well.

"Sherlock and John should be home soon." I said, maneuvering off his lap. He sighed, straightening his jacket.

"It's been fun. But I'm no longer your enemy, I'm just a judge in this game." Moriarty said, tipping my chin up. He drops his mouth to mine, leaving a chaste warm kiss on my lips. It's harmless really, I'd given John kisses as a child more invasive than that. But suddenly my nonchalance on the bodily contact vanished and I felt exposed. That wasn't pleasant.

"Ta." He calls over his shoulder, vanishing into the shadows of the hallway.

* * *

><p>A vacant restaurant. It's nighttime and on the top floor of massive building. Every table has a candle sitting in the center, creating a dull glow in the room. Moriarty ordered me to be here. I didn't dare disobey him.<p>

_I don't want to see him. I don't want to see him. I don't want to see him. _

"Nice to see you." Kier says, a casual grin fixed on his handsome features as he strolls through the elegant doors. I don't rise from my seat by the massive windows.

"Fuck you." Not exactly as aloof as I had intended to be. I fix him with a lethal glare that he deflects with a chuckle.

"I assume you've got some questions, go ahead." Kier says. It's strange, he seems more open. Like our entire lives he'd been shut off, and now he could be himself. He seemed at ease. I wanted to vomit. He takes a seat across from me, like we're on a date. His knees bumps mine, his legs much to long to be hindered by the small table. I recoil instantly.

"How exactly did you preform the art of betrayal so skillfully?" I ask, like me he is dressed immaculately. A dark fitted suit similar to the ones I've seen Sebastian favor when he is forced into 'monkey suits'. Both of us were playing our little roles in Moriarty's game. I needed to find out the truth before I finished Moriarty and ended this distraction. I had work to do, I needed to hone my skills as a detective or a doctor. Anything but having to see Kier, anything at all.

"It wasn't all an act, I did want you to 'scrub my floors'." He winks, a story we heard about Sally Donovan when we were children that nearly sent us into hysterics of laughter. The familiarity is so wrong, I forget how closely linked together we are. How far back we go.

"I'd never-"

"You considered it. If Moriarty hadn't been so damn impatient I would have had you, completely." He's sure. My cheeks burn with how confident he sounds. He manages to not sound overly arrogant, just like he is stating a fact. I hate it because he is probably right. The concept was new to me, if it was Kier though I would have let him do anything. As long as he stayed with me.

"You were the one who burned my name in the bridge, and graffiti it all over the monuments." I state. It's not a question.

"Yep. I killed the President too. Sebastian was busy entertaining the boss." He leans back, stretching his arms behind his head. The muscles on his arms ripple disapprovingly at having to be confined to the black suit.

"Boss, you're his lapdog now?" I try to reign in the anger, but it doesn't help much. Kier's hands are folded behind his head, and easy smile on his face. He's trying to read me. He's like a whole new person. This isn't my Kier, this is X.

"When he wants me to be. Usually I just do hits for him or make some negotiations." Kier informs.

"How many people have you killed?" I inquire. That seems to throw him for a loop. His honey colored eyes look nearly yellow at times. He suddenly laughs, running a hand through his messy blonde brown hair.

"Ah, hell. I don't know. First kill I ever did was when I was in seventh grade, remember that kid who kept harassing you?"

"Mickey Schwartz." I answer instantly. The boy had mysteriously vanished after pinning me down in the playground and calling me names. The other children had laughed while I'd been mortified.

"I took care of him for you, on the boss's command of course. We couldn't have the little princess being bothered." He grins, it's so uncharacteristic. Kier doesn't smile so much, usually he is more stoic in his facial expressions. But that's how Kier was, I have to remember that this is X. A product of Moriarty.

"What is he having us do?" I inquire, gazing out the window. The table is so small. I don't even see him move when his hand solidly grips my wrist. My body doesn't even react immediately, still registering him as a friend. I almost lean into the touch. He's like my other half, I've longed to be with him. The gesture is strong, even though it takes me much too long to pull back, I can't. I want to cry. I've been doing much too much of that lately.

He peers up at me from under his thick eyelashes, pale gold grown eyes relaxed. His large calloused thumbs trace my wrists carefully, caressing. A small smirk appears on his mouth.

"I'm going to kill Jenny and you're going to try and stop me." He says.

* * *

><p>AN: Hey if you guys are curious as to how I'm imagining Kier to look, I came across a gorgeous male model who I think looks similar to how I in vision him. His name is **seth kuhlmann**.


	14. Chapter 14

I do not own BBC Sherlock

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

"Connect me to DI Lestrade!" I shout into the phone. The cabbie I hired is racing through the streets of London, I have a gun to his head. Nothing motivates civilians to cooperate like death. A deep sigh comes into the phone. The girlish infatuation I used to have seems to have vanished, no fluttering in my chest happens, no sparks flying. How strange. I'll analyze it later.

"What is it, Scarlett? I'm busy." Lestrade drawls, sounding distracted.

"Moriarty is-"

"That's breaking the rules, love." Moriarty's voice comes over the phone in a clear reprimanding tone. I curse.

"I can't do this on my own, I'm only using my resources!" I argue.

"My game, my rules. Use your brain, princess." He sneers. A quick dial tone before I hear Lestrade again.

"Scarlett? Scarlett are you okay?" Lestrade asks, sounding worried now.

"Where is Jenny?" I demand. Lestrade let's out an annoyed huff.

"Scarlett, I'm at work. I don't have time for this. Call her cellphone." Lestrade grunts, hanging up. I groan and quickly dial the girls number.

"Oh my God, I am looking at the most atrocious article of clothing. I'm honestly considering purchasing it just for the sake of burning it later." Jenny joked as soon as she answered the phone. So she wasn't at the house, but Kier might be there waiting for her there.

"Where are you?" I shout, pointing to the street where the Lestrade's live. She hums in the back of her throat.

"Meeting Kier, he wanted to hang out. Are you guys fighting again?" She asks suddenly, sounding disapproving.

"Where, Jenny? Where are you meeting him?" I groan. The line goes quite. I panic instantly. Shot? Stabbed? Killed?

"Jenny?" A frantic whimper on my part.

"Oh my God." She whispers. I feel my blood run cold. He's found her, I couldn't save her. I hear a woman yelling in the background.

"Jenn-"

"You're _so_ jealous! Finally, I always knew you had a crush on him!" Jenny giggled, accordion music played in the background. I removed the mobile from my ear and press it to my forehead in exasperation, resisting throwing it out the window. Taking in a deep breath I interject her ramblings.

"Where are you? I've just realized my emotions and I need to admit them to him immediately." I lie hurriedly. I quickly direct the cabbie to turn around and head back into central London.

"This is so great! Can I watch, it's going to be really romantic! You are guys are the cutest couple-"

"_Jenny, where_?" I hiss through clenched teeth. She hums, I can hear the traffic fading and then returning as she looks around. The sound of something rumble, maybe a machine?

"I forgot the name, it's some french place. I think it might be new- Oh! There is he is! Kier, over here!" She calls.

"Jenny don't, run!" The line fades out, a dial tone is my only response. Okay. Think. Quickly I gather the information. Heavy traffic, new french restaurant, she also said something about clothing. That told me nothing! It could be anywhere in London. I try redialing but realize Moriarty probably blocked the call. Quickly I look up french restaurants in the area. Nothing.

"Okay, moving onto little details." I say aloud. The cabbie shoots me a terrified look in the mirror. I ignore him. A woman had been yelling in the background.

_'This terrible, take it back. This risotto tastes all wrong.'_ The woman had complained. Irrelevant. Not going to help me. There was more. I'd heard more. Construction! That's the noise! Drilling pavement.

"Do you know any construction sites going on near shopping centers, or a french restaurant?" I ask the cabbie. He shakes his head.

"Answer me!" I order. He trembles.

"There's tons of construction sights!" He yelps, shrinking away from the fake gun. I rub my temple. There was something. Something my mind stowed away as irrelevant. Think!

"The accordion." I murmur. It had been an Italian tune. I'd dismissed it. The risotto! It was an Italian restaurant, not french. Damn Jenny, that tiny mistake could cost her her life!

"Italian restaurants, are there any new ones that have construction still going on?" I demand. The cabbie hesitates.

"Uh, yeah. It's a new place right down the block." He whimpers. Eyes flickering to the street and then the fake gun pointed at his head. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple.

"Take me, hurry!" I yell. He He slams his foot on the gas and we're racing down the street.

* * *

><p>I run from the cabbie's car, down the streets towards the sound of construction. The road is jammed with cars. I dodge the people on the sidewalk, breathing heavy. My high heels clink against the sidewalk, the dress I'm wearing isn't exactly made for running. I see a brand new Italian sign and dash for it. People are sitting outside.<p>

"Jenny?" I scream, looking around wildly. I spot Kier first. He's wearing jeans and a casual dark tee shirt and has his baseball cap snugly fitted over his yellow eyes. He's seated at a table across from Jenny.

"Hey Scar, looking good." He grins up at me, his eyes amused. All of my regular clothes have magically disappeared, I'm sure Moriarty had them trashed. I pant heavily as I see Jenny turn around in her seat, she's sipping on lemonade and her eyes go wide at my outfit.

"Wow." She gaps, the straw falling from her mouth. I lick my lips and take a seat by Jenny, sitting too close to her. I pull the lemonade from her hand and toss it into the bush.

"Hey!" She protests.

"Cavities." I mutter, my eyes never leaving Kier. He laughs out loud, and Jenny looks at him in confusion. Our Kier never laughs so easily.

"You look amazing." Jenny says slowly, looking away from Kier suspiciously.

"Thanks." I say tensely. Kier crosses his arms over his broad chest, flashing me his easy wide smile.

"Why are you so worked up? You looked like you just jogged a marathon." Kier says, raising a thick eyebrow to disappear beneath his cap.

"She came to tell you something!" Jenny interjected happily. My face burned with hatred for the smug boy in front of me. Jenny patted my back encouragingly.

"I don't have anything to say to him." I snarl. I can't confront him. I can't tell Jenny she is in danger. I have a sneaking feeling it's one of Moriarty's rules. Kier bites his lip to hide the smile on his smug face. I despise him. Jenny throws her head back and her arms out.

"Scarlett, come on! You sounded so sure on the phone, just tell him how you feel." Jenny says helpfully. I never let my eyes leave Kier, who is staring back at me with the same intensity. He suddenly moves forward, scooting his chair until my legs are trapped between his.

"Come on Scar, what is it?" He asks feigning worry. His large calloused hand comes up to hold my cheek. I take a deep breath. No way else out of it. Jenny's smart, she'll figure out something is going on if I suddenly say that everything I said on the phone was a lie. It might break Moriarty's rules.

"I have strong feelings for you." I settle with. Hated being the most forefront. Kier catches my meaning and desperately tries to hide his honest laughter. 'I'm glad I amuse him,' I think sarcastically.

"The feelings mutual." He assures, he pulls me into a heated kiss and I bite at his lips. He grins and deepens the kiss, his tongue darting into my mouth. I should hate it. But my body is just as much of a traitor as he is. The kiss doesn't feel nearly as wrong as it had with Moriarty. When he finally pulls back, looking satisfied. Jenny has literal tears in her eyes. I want to vomit.

"This is so great!" She squeaks, clapping her hands together.

"I always knew you two would end up together." She admits, wiping her wet eyes with a finger.

"So did I." Kier grins, winking at me. Jenny babbles on and I can't take my eyes off Kieran. He seems unarmed, but with his massive body there's no telling where he could be hiding a weapon. How could he kill Jenny? He used to have a crush on her! Was everything a lie?

"Don't you just hate that," I interrupt Jenny complaining about a terrible movie she'd gone to see.

"When you expect so much more out of something and it turns out to be utter crap, the movie that is." I explain. Jenny titled her head in confusion.

"Well, it wasn't _that_ bad." She drawled. Kier shoots me an amused glance, like we're sharing a humorous secret.

"But when you're going to see a movie, you know it's all fake. You pay to see what you want to see." Kier slides in. I'd always known he was more clever than he let on. Sometimes he would slip and say something intelligent, and me and Sherlock would look at him baffled. He'd duck his head or shrug, but you could see it upset him. He pretended to be normal, but the truth was he was smart.

"If the actor didn't have to be so dictated by the directer than it wouldn't have to be like that." I object. Kier shrugs, that terrible smirk still fixed on his bloody perfect face.

"Then the actor wouldn't get to be in the movie alongside his gorgeous costar, even worse he wouldn't get paid." Kier tossed back rapidly. That stung. I glare heatedly at him while Jenny looks dully between us.

"I'm gonna go, you guys should be alone. After admitting your emotions and all." Jenny smiles. I stand alongside her.

"I'm going with you."

"No! Stay here. God, you are hopeless." She laughs, patting my cheek endearingly. She vanishes in the crowd.

"Only you can kill her, if I'm with you then shes's safe. Those are the rules." I say to Kier. He's still sprawled out in the chair, worn jeans riding low on his hips.

"There are no rules, Scarlett. Just you, me, and the whole of London as our playground." He grunts, nodding to the people milling around us. I narrow my eyes at him.

"How could you kill Jenny, she's one of your best friends." I spit. He folds his hands over his stomach, yawning.

"I don't have a best friend, Scar. I'm a hit man, I'm only doing this for the cash." Kier says calmly.

"For the money?" I hiss out the words. I get goose flesh on my arms and my toes curl in the high heels. Hatred.

"Don't take it personally, it's just business. Trust me, I didn't really want you involved. I think Sherlock would have been a bit more professional about the whole thing." Kier says, tossing up his hands. He has a sarcastic smile on his face. I grip the front of his shirt, slamming him back on the chair. Before I know realize it, I'm straddling his lap. He looks smug.

"I will _kill_ you." I promise.

"With what? Sparkling blue eyes, or your tiny hands that couldn't strangle a kitten." He sneers. I slide my hands around his throat, and he tilts back his head accommodatingly. I can feel his strong pulse beneath my finger tips.

"I despise you." My voice is so stoic and cold it shocks me. I tighten my fingers around his neck and he looks strangely erotic, his lips part subtly and he grins.

"I could break every bone in your body in under five minutes, do you really think threatening a guy twice your size is a good idea?" He asks. I release him. He's right. Something in me told me that this was Kier. _My_ Kier would never hurt me. Even if he became a psycho hit man with a agenda. But this wasn't _my_ Kier. I needed to be more careful. This man was a killer. I move away from him, sitting on the chair.

"When do you plan to kill her?" I ask, rubbing my temple. He shrugs, touching his neck lightly and wincing. He smiles at the bruises that will surely form.

"She's already on her way to the designated place. It you want to save her, you better be quick about it."

* * *

><p>"The cab she's in is heading westbound on central street." Tech relayed, his voice panicked. I jogged down the street passed the congested roads.<p>

"How fast are they traveling?" I demand, spotting a young man sliding off a sleek all black motorbike. Perfect.

"Rapidly, they're bypassing traffic by driving along the sidewalk. Jenny's locked inside the cab." Tech said. I hang up the mobile, tucking it into the front of my shirt. Tiny dresses weren't exactly practical. This will be tedious. I hardly doubt the young man will believe me, but it's worth a try.

"Police, give me your keys!" I order. The young man snorts, lifting them from my reach easily when I make a swip for them.

"Yeah right," He huffs. I sharply elbow him in the ribs. Catch the keys as they jingle in the air. Hurriedly I repeat the process of turning the bike back on and rev up the handlebar. If that's even what it's called. I let out a squeak as me and the metal contraption rattling about between my thighs race down the street.

"Oh my God!" I cry, my hair whipping around my face. Too fast. Can feel the metal thrumming and my muscles struggling to maneuver the weight of the bike upright. This is dangerous, I don't even have a helmet on and am wearing a small tight dress and high heels. This is ludicrous, this is ridiculous. This is fun! I laugh as I bend my body alongside the bike, the speed increases along with my control. I calculate the aerodynamics, along with how much speed my petite body can handle without me crashing.

"Hey baby!" A group of men catcall as I race passed them. Remotely realize my thighs are barely covered, let alone my arse. Quickly tug down the dress but it does little. A helicopter rumbles above me. I can't look up, I'm not skilled enough to control the bike and not watch were I'm going. My cellphone vibrates against my breast.

"Answer." I snap against my collar. Thank goodness for smart phones. Tech's voice comes out.

"They just passed by eighth street, going westbound." He instructs. I map out the city in my head, not nearly as detailed or proficient as my fathers. But I do know most of the streets and shortcuts. Concentrate before swerving down a side street. I go too sharply and the edge of the bike grinds on the concrete, causing sparks to flare up. The helicopter is persistent above me.

"Someone's following me with a helicopter." I say. Moriarty? No. He has CCTV's where he can get a much better view of my frenzied attempt to save Jenny's life. Then who? Kier? No, he probably had the same access.

"Hold on, I'll check it out." Tech ventures. His voice disappears before coming back a hesitantly.

"Um, Scar-"

"Who is it?" I snarl. He mumbles nervously. He knows my temper is a match even for Moriarty.

"Reporters, you're on the news." Fuck.

"Fuck!" I hiss. John's icon appears glowing against my chest on the phones screen. No time for him.

"Get them off my back!" I shout. Tech grunts.

"Even I don't have that much skill. You can try to loose them, but then you'll loose Jenny. If you hurry, you can catch them on the side street." Tech's voice is traced with static.

"Alright." I hang up. Leaning down far on the bike, I hear the helicopter whirling above me. I can do both. Making a right when I should have gone left I screech into a tunnel. Sirens. Lestrade will kill me. Why is this getting so much coverage? The last thing I need is to be documented while trying to save- Oh. Kier. He tipped them off, knowing that the publicity would throw me for a loop. Clever boy.

"Okay." I inhale sharply. I wait until the helicopter is forced to circle around, as soon as it's propellers shift even the slightest away I hurry from the hiding spot. Ha! But the waiting had allowed the police to get closer. They were only a block behind me now. Gripping the seat with my thighs, I race down the road. Much less congested here, so I'm able to slide in and around the cars. The helicopters caught up with me. Waste of time. Jenny's in trouble. My phone vibrates.

"Answer." I say without looking at it. Wind pushes through my long wavy hair, curling it even more from the salty wind that flips it around my head. I'm sure my cheeks are flushed from the cool air hitting my face.

"I bet John's having a heart attack, you on motorbike without a helmet? Insanity." Kier's sardonic voice is comforting for a mere second before causing me spasms of pain.

"I wouldn't have to resort to such hazardous situations, if not for a certain colleague of mine." I comment flatly. He laughs. The sound is beautiful. Deep. I subconsciously dip my head down to my chest to hear the rumble closer. Stupid. I dodge a car barely and nearly loose control of the bike. Bloody hell!

"Colleague. It fits I suppose. Although, I've always thought of us on a more personal level." He says the last part in the smoothest most adult voice I've ever heard him use. Arousing, comes to mind. Much to my annoyance.

"Nothing like kidnapping and murdering my best friend to really solidify our relationship." I shoot back, causing him to laugh again. Nothing like dry, black humor to really entertain Kier. He always finds it most amusing.

"Just playing the game, love. I've got to had it to you, kid, you are playing well. You've nearly caught the cab, but not quite." He cautions. A loud bang echoes off the massive buildings. A clink of metal and the motorbike deflects a bullet.

"Shit!" I cried, swerving and nearly falling off the vehicle. He shot at me! Bastard!

"You do look sexy on that thing. I can't say I'm pleased about those shapely thighs of yours being all over the news though." He complains calmly. I can hear him shifting his sniper on the floor, causing it to scrap on tiles. I glance up at the highest building in the area, waving. He chuckles.

"I'm going to save Jenny, and then I'm going to kill you." I inform. He hums in his throat, trying to concentrate on placing a bullet in my head.

"I wouldn't want to shoot you in that pretty mouth of yours, John wouldn't be able to hold an open casket. Although I'm sure Sherlock would love the grotesque nature of your death and enjoy trying to solve it. You haven't told them about our break up, have you?" He asks, his voice going softer as he concentrates more.

"You kill me, and you'll end Moriarty's game before it even starts." I distract. Just a few more seconds. I'm coming right into the range of his bullet. Five seconds until he pulls the trigger. I'm dead.

"Not exactly ideal, but it will do." He says, I hear the echo of the gunshot and make a sharp turn. I can hear the bullet whiz past my ear. Great shot. He even anticipated my attempt to avoid the bullet, calculating my subconscious pull to the right. Kier was a genius. I breath heavily as I speed down a dingy alleyway. Leaving the building Kier's positioned at behind.

"Bitch." He grunts, reminding me of the many times he lost the video games we'd play in his apartment. Using the insult in a gruff voice. I breath heavily against the phone, adrenaline making me dizzy.

"Are you still pretending to be a moron, or have you really have no better insults?" I quip. I can hear him taking apart the sniper. The metallic clang of parts as they slide into a bag.

"Moriarty is a genius and he insults people by calling them 'sissy's' and 'doofus'." He reminds coolly.

"Way to follow his footsteps. How long has Sebastian raised you?" I ask suddenly. The quick change in our conversational topic doesn't seem to bother him. I retrace the cab with Jenny in it in my mind, and turn down another side street. Motorbikes are quite handy in such a crowded city like London.

"Since I was a kid. I lived with him up until I got my place, Moriarty complained I was too messy in their flat." He conversed lazily. I could hear the annoyance tinging his voice from missing the shot, aimed to kill me.

"You lived with _James Moriarty_?" Interesting. How he managed to keep both me and Sherlock from seeing it was truly astounding.

"He sort of came and went as he pleased until I was about fourteen. Then I think that's when they got into it. Sebastian wasn't there as often. But then over the years they became more domestic, like John and Sherlock. It's funny, don't you think? Two of the most brilliant men in London are queers. I wonder if I'll start-" I cut him off.

"Genius's don't think the same way you do. They don't care about something so trivial as gender and the roles society has placed for each to follow." I inform. He yawns into the phone.

"Let's have phone sex." He says suddenly, sounding amused. I grunt.

"Let's not."

"Boring." He complains, mimicking my father. I slam on the breaks so sharply, the back wheel lifts from the concrete. The cab is parked and Jenny is being escorted through the abandoned buildings doors by two burly men.

"You found her?" Kier asks. I nod, but realize he can't see me.

"Yes." I reply. He sighs.

"So you're probably going to hang up, and then try and rescue-" I hang up.

* * *

><p>AN: Hey if you guys are curious as to how I'm imagining Kier to look, I came across a gorgeous male model who I think looks similar to how I in vision him. His name is **seth kuhlmann**.


	15. Chapter 15

I do not own BBC Sherlock.

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

I quickly drive the motorcycle to a nearby alley and dump it. The building is cold and dark when I enter, the air feels like thousands of needles stabbing my legs and arms. The wind blows through the rickety windows, creating a eerie noise. I barely have enough time to duck down behind the counter before a thug comes into the room to survey it. I barely caught a glimpse of him. I could pick him out of a police line up of a thousand other people who looked identical. The walkie talkie at his hip made a static noise.

"Did you find her?" Kier's voice sounds irritated. Good. The man fumbled with the old piece of equipment. Why use such an old- Ah. Kier knew I would use Tech, he could hack into any other communication device with the ease of a child picking his nose. You couldn't bug a walkie talkie, they were too old.

"Not yet sir," The man squeaked back, having a surprisingly high pitched voice for the girth of his body. Then again, maybe he was just nervous. Kier sounded like should be cast as a suave villain in an old James Bond film.

"Search in small places, where a child might hide." Kier advises. Bastard. It's hard facing an enemy who knows you like the back of his hand. Two can play at that game. As much as I don't want to admit it, this is Kier. And if I want to win, then I'm going to have to play dirty.

"Yes, sir." The man said, coming around to the counter. I slammed my leg out to knock the large man's shin. He crumpled to the floor crying out. I pressed a hand to his neck, touching a pulse point that forced him into unconsciousness. Quickly shoving his body under decay. When he wakes up, it will be to the smell of damp wood. I grip the walkie talkie for a moment. Considering if I should confront Kier or not. I'm still unsure of his new persona. Won't know how he might react. He's a whole new person. Best to be cautious. This is Jenny, after all. I must save her. I jog down the dingy hallways. My heels clanking annoyingly. Why couldn't Moriarty let me do these stupid little acts in sweats and sneakers. The thought makes me sigh as I slide around a corner.

"Let me go! My father is the Detective Inspector of the Scotland Yard, I'll have you know! When he finds about about this, you are dead meat!" She cried out, flailing between the large men. They shifted her to the chair, tying her slender limbs with ease. She struggled fiercely. I moved. It had always been a problem of mine. I didn't act without thinking, per se. It was more that I thought things through so rapidly it was difficult for me to keep track of these thoughts, so I acted immediately waiting for the follow through to come back to mind.

"Hey, ass hats!" I call, the men turn around. Now would be a great time for my brain to complete the sequence I had worked out in my mind. Seems I've forgotten. Four large men vs. one teenager in heels.

"It's the girl." The man hesitated, a flash of confusion. It was enough.

"Girl? I'm your boss, moron. Ever hear the name, Moriarty? I sign your checks, you should know who I am." I taunt easily. Never underestimate confidence, tends to shake up other people. Easy to make people question themselves when they don't question you.

"Moriarty-" They swallow thickly, exchanging looks. I shut my eyes in gratitude of the fear that that name can invoke. Jenny looks terrified and relieved at the same time.

"But the boss said that we were looking for a young girl." Another man piped. Their 'boss', I assumed was Kier. I glare at him with annoyance. Like he is suggesting something ludicrous.

"I've don't have time for this." I snarl. I yank off a knife strapped to my thigh and flick it open. I apologize to Jenny with my eyes as I lean over her. If anyone heard the name Moriarty, they also heard about the sadistic maniac who held the title. Gender was the only thing that seemed to be blurred. I press the knife to her pale throat, nicking the skin so she bleeds.

"She's a pretty one. What does Kier want her for?" I ask causally. Best to play the part. I'm good at playing Moriarty.

"Said' he wanted us to off her." Muttered the large man who hung close. Pig. Kept his eyes roving over my chest. If they found out I wasn't Moriarty, I had no doubt those large stained fingers would be digging into my flesh. I carefully remember the lessons I'd begged John to teach me about anatomy as a child.

"Fine, I'll do it." I say. I pull back the knife and Jenny's eyes go large in panic. I stab her between the ribs, but not hitting any organs.

She let's out a soul damning scream around the gag. It bleeds a lot. I use my body to block hers as I pretend to stab her a few more times, only scraping her clothes and skin. The first deep stab will bleed enough to cause the desired effect. Jenny's is trembling, her eyes blurred with hots tears as she sharply draws in ragged breaths. I haul her from the chair roughly, shoving her to the door.

"Help me get her to the car, I want to watch her bleed out." I smirk. The men obey, carrying her down to the limo Tech has waiting for me when I sent a hurried text. Jenny blacks out in the car and the men leave us, while I tend to the wounds I've inflicted.

* * *

><p>The couch was soft beneath me. John must have started a fire earlier because I could feel heat radiating from my right. I rubbed my thumb over my lip. Thinking. Thinking. So annoying. My brain won't work when I need it too! Kier's face keeps swooping in. His honey colored eyes contrasting with his dark suit, and artfully tousled hair. Traitor. Best not to even waste a breath on him, let alone a thought. I focus into the real world, I desperately need a break from my thoughts.<p>

Sherlock's staring. I've caught him doing this multiple times. He gets frustrated by how easily John distracts him. He jerks his head away when he realizes, and goes back to his work. But within seconds his gaze is sliding back, like a magnet. I get frustrated by the fact that John doesn't even realize how much my father worships every hair on his gray head. Sherlock's eyes are piercing. John sits in his chair, his face relaxed as the firelight dances across the folds of skin. A man his age shouldn't be so attractive still, but he is. He is completely oblivious to the attention he is getting, so enthralled in his book.

My father is sitting at the kitchen top, his hand laying limply beside the microscope. His eyes are burning, more so then even the fire. He loves John. I wonder how it feels to care for someone so deeply that they can pull you from your thoughts? It must be irritating. I stand, making a show of being tired and going to 'sleep'. John frowns, enjoying the domestic scene. He doesn't argue though. I've barely shut the door before Sherlock's bare feet are padding away at the carpet as he crosses the room to approach his lover.

* * *

><p>I wake up to something warm and hard beneath my fingers. I shift and there is a deep noise. Scent comes first. Masculine and clean. Mistake it for my father for a moment. A second before I can jerk away, a strong muscled arm his trapping my shoulders to a massive chest.<p>

"How you can convince my men that you aren't the 'teenage girl, with blue eyes and wavy auburn hair' I was looking for is beyond me." Kier sighs, running his fingers over my bare shoulder. I'm wearing one of his old shirts, the collar has slipped over my shoulder making me appear like a child playing dress up. Remotely realize I should have tossed Kier's shirt, but I didn't. I barely have any tee shirts left. Moriarty had somehow removed all casual wear from my wardrobe.

"Isn't too hard. Seeing as the men you hired have the IQ of a sea sponge." I huff. My heartbeat has picked up considerably. I chalk this up as fear, anxiety, and stress. He grunts with his lips pursed downwards. He's discarded his suit jacket on the chair in the corner of my room. The sunlight hits his face from my window and I wonder for a moment where his hat is. The idea is stupid. He obviously wore it only to keep up the image of our friendship.

"Your room is filthy." He mutters, his eyes closed. I glance around my room before returning my gaze to his sculpted face. True. I have tools and experiments strew about. Only a few spots where you can walk to and from the bed.

"My best friend hasn't been around to nag me." I comment. He stiffens and his eyes flicker behind his lavender eye lids. Interesting.

"I can't believe you stabbed Jenny." He offers a half smirk, peering at me from beneath his lashes.

"I saved her life, didn't I?" I smile back. He stares at me down the length of his chest. His arm moves to hold my waist. Long nimble fingers stroke my hip through the cotton cloth.

"I'll give you that one." He shuts his eyes, leaning back down on the pillow. I'm not wearing pajama bottoms, only panties. My naked thigh is resting between his clothed ones.

"John and Sherlock-"

"Are fine. Recovering from a passionate night. Maybe we should follow their lead." Kier grins, it looks predatory. A look I've never seen before. I reel back in shock, planting my hands firmly on his chest as he rolls on top of me.

"I'd rather hand wash their dirty sheets." I snap. He laughs and nuzzles my neck, reminding me of a puppy. Although I'm sure he acts more like a dog, and looks like a wolf.

"Don't be so frigid." He smiles lazily, catching the tender flesh of my jaw between his teeth for a moment. The action is strange, almost threatening. It sends electricity up my spine.

"I'm seventeen, you're nearly nineteen. Pretty sure this is illegal." I add. He laughs deeply, his chest bumping mine.

"I think fucking a minor is the least of my worries if the police catch me." The curse word sounds ugly and I shove him off with force. My Kier would know to be more civil, to say things gently. I hate this new Kier. He pauses for a moment, only taking a second to realize what bothered me.

"Make love to." He corrects in a purr, descending back down on me. I slam my knee into his stomach and toss him from the bed. Surprise is the only advantage I'd ever have over his athletic body.

"Shit!" He snarls, shattering a bowl that I had filled with water and batteries. I was measuring which temperature brought out the battery acid out quickest. John and Sherlock's hurried footsteps where coming down the stairs in seconds. I could never make a thump so loud on the carpet. Kier stood, yanking on his jacket to hide the gun he had tucked in the back of his trousers.

"Scarlett-" John blinked as he looked up at Kier.

"Where have you been, mate? I thought you and Scarlett were having a row." John laughed, clapping him on the back in a hug. I sit quietly on the bed, in nothing but the tee shirt. John is dense at times.

"Get out." Sherlock orders. His voice calm but has a lethal undertone. John looks up at him, startled.

"Sherlock-"

"It's okay, John. I've got to be going anyways. Sherlock." He dropped his head acknowledgement to my father. He turned right before leaving the room, his eyes focusing on me. Such a strange color, nearly amber.

"I'll see you soon, Scarlett." He promises.

* * *

><p>"Stop staring at John, and help me with this!" I shout. Sherlock's cheeks go pink at being caught, he thought he had been sly. We lift the cooler from the boot of Lestrade's car and trudge it down to the picnic table. John looks handsome in khaki pants and a plain tee shirt which brings out the blue in his eyes. Usually he is covered from head to toe, but it's a warm day in London. He's wearing a fitted tee that shows off his arms and is tight on his solid hips. You can see the outline of his dog tags beneath shirt. Jenny has promised not to say that the person who stabbed her had been me. Her father is still looking for the group of thugs who kidnapped her.<p>

"Hurry up you two!" Lestrade laughs heartily. He looks absolutely ecstatic to see my father and I do manual labor. We struggle with the cooler. If either of us were less distracted we probably would have protested it. But Sherlock was in a stupor, and studying John like his life depended on it. While I was guiltily shooting glances to the still recovering Jenny who sat on the blanket, wincing every time she moved.

"Whoever stabbed you either didn't want you to die or was very unlucky." John commented, lifting the bandages at her waist to peek in.

"The wound is healing nicely. It looks like you were stabbed just to bleed a lot, not to actually injure you. It's very strange." John continued. He really didn't realize how right he was. He dismissed himself much more than he should. Sherlock's eyes flickered to mine, he knew. Of course he knew. John was the one who fed him information, and he was the computer that processed it.

"Weird." Jenny muttered, looking embarrassed. Lestrade's boys were all playing rugby. One of his elder sons jogged up to the blanket.

"John, come play with us." The boy smiled, looking almost identical to his father. John smiled and stood, stretching out his bad arm.

"I don't think you boys can handle this old solider." John's voice strained as he stretched and smiled. I saw Sherlock glare hatefully at the boy. Jealousy would be his downfall. He looked ready to open his mouth to protest when a smooth voice interjected.

"Sorry I'm late." Mycroft called. He took a seat on the ground, managing to somehow still look regal. Ridiculous.

"What are you doing here?" Lestrade yelped, his cheeks bright red. Sherlock had decided to take out his frustrations on his brother.

"Smelt the pie's you baked, obviously." Sherlock interjected nastily. I smothered a giggle behind my hand, Jenny doing the same.

"You invited me." Mycroft pointed out, not in the least self conscious. He laid his umbrella down beside him.

"I didn't think you'd actually come." Lestrade muttered, glancing to where John was tackling his eldest son.

"Well I have. How are you my dear, recovering well? I do hope you got my flowers." Mycroft cooed to Jenny. Although Mycroft did have a soft spot for Jenny, he did look upon me as his favorite 'child'. He'd always favored things of 'delicate' beauty, and I also had the Holmes' mind set.

"I'm fine. Thanks for the flowers, and paying the hospital bills." Jenny laughed. She's told me her hospital room had been filled with flowers and candies from some anonymous figure. Lestrade looked shocked.

"I thought Claire said she would pay for it, she insisted." Lestrade snapped. Claire was Jenny's mother, and Lestrade's ex-wife. She had no problem taking Mycroft's money, while Lestrade refused it.

"No need to worry. She could only afford ... the most disagreeable Doctors. I made sure Jennifer was well cared for." Mycroft smiled. Jenny smiled back.

"Did you see that Sherlock?" John laughed, jogging up to us. He had rolled up his khaki's to right below his knees. He had grass stains and dirt on his face. His blonde-gray hair was in a complete disarray, and he was covered in sweat. I thought Sherlock might faint.

"See what?" Sherlock decided to be snippy to mask his lust. John plopped down beside him, taking the water bottle Sherlock had been drinking.

"I scored a Try!" Equivalent to an American football's touchdown. The boys all gathered around.

"You were gre-Uncle Mycroft!" Henry laughed, the oldest of Lestrade's sons and his near twin. The boy wrapped a sweaty arm around Mycroft who flushed uncomfortably.

"How's school?" Mycroft asked hesitantly, trying to lean away from the intimate and sweaty touch.

"Mycroft!" The twins cried in unison. Mycroft fumbled over his protests as the two large boys threw themselves at him.

"Gentlemen, _please_." His voice sounded pained. His suit would be covered in dirt and grass.

"Why don't you come play a game with us, old chap?" Louis, the young of Mycroft's sons taunted.

"Oh. I don't think-"

"Come on, come play with us." One of the twins wiggled into his lap. With four large filthy boys hanging from him, it was nearly hysterical to see Mycroft look so panicked. The man could be facing nuclear warfare, or a disease that could wipe out the entire human population. Who knew that his biggest fear was facing his lovers four filthy teenage sons.

"How about I arrange for Jaime Peacock to come practice with you sometime." Mycroft bargained, trying to slip away from them. Lestrade was straining not to burst into laughter.

"You know _Jaime Peacock_." Louis whimpered. I assume a famous rugby player. Mycroft's look of relief was hysterical. I allowed myself to laugh.

"Come on boys, lets have another go. You coming John?" Lestrade said, standing. John began to follow, but Sherlock yanked him back.

"John, I think we forgot something in the car." Sherlock said, leading him back to the parking lot. John looked honestly confused.

"No we didn't." He argued.

"Alright, Mycroft can come play." Henry grinned, reaching to haul him up. Mycroft leaned away from his touch.

"I've something to discuss with, Scarlett." Mycroft lied. Henry shrugged and jogged to the field with his father and brothers. The picnic continued in relative domestic peace. The twins squabbled a few times, but for the majority it was pleasant. I was helping load up when a motorcycle pulled into the lot. All black and sleek. Gorgeous. Kier sat was riding it in a tight black shirt and dark jeans.

"Let's go." He said. Sherlock and John are heading up the slight slope to the care. I only have a split second to make my decision. I push Kier back, taking control of the bike. He slides back without argument. Even plopping the oversized helmet he had been wearing on my head.

"Where are we going?" I demand over the sound of the wind. His hands hold my waist, and the skin there is burning.

"Moriarty." He answers simply.


	16. Chapter 16

I do not own BBC Sherlock.

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

"So let me guess, I'm being set up?" I demand. Kier holds onto my waist as we swerve through the traffic, speeding by on the black motorcycle.

"Don't be stupid. Moriarty just wanted to meet with us, probably going to tell us about what our next move will be. I could kill you right now and end it, but he says he'd rather us use our heads." Kier informed. Interesting. So Moriarty was changing his direction now? Brain over brawn. Good, Kier would have had the advantage if we where going to do it that way.

"I don't trust you enough to walk into a building just because you said Moriarty would meet us there." I snap. Kier gives off warm laughter behind me.

"If I wanted to kill you, I have a knife in my pocket that would have already been in your throat by now. I play by Moriarty's rules, I'm just in it for the cash." He says. I slow the motorcycle to a stop and hesitate in front of the building. Taking off the helmet, I set it on the bike, straightening my skirt.

"Come on. Moriarty is inside." Kier said, waving his hand to me. I followed him in.

"If this is a set up-" I warn. He presses the elevator button, rolling his honey colored eyes.

"Please. I could snap your neck with my arms tied behind my back. I don't want to kill you, Scar." He smiled, holding open the elevator for me as I stepped in. I was wearing black nylons and black heels. A tight black pencil skirt was set off by the vivid purple button up top I was wearing with the sleeves rolled up. My hair hung loose around my shoulders. Kier wasn't wearing a suit. He had on dark worn jeans and a his beaten up leather jacket.

"I should have have known that little incident where you almost but a bullet in my head was an accident." I counter, my voice dripping with sarcasm. He shrugs with a slight wince.

"Moriarty told me to off you, I think he was just testing me to see if I would really do it. You know how changeable he is. I'm glad he changed his mind though. Now that he knows I really will kill you." Kier said this all so coolly, completely unaffected.

"Glad to see being raised together hasn't dampened your work ethic." I snap. Just because Moriarty ordered it he would kill me without a second thought? That stung, more than I was willing to admit. Kier was an asshole.

"It's just business. Like I said, I didn't really _want_ to kill you." The doors slide open and Kiers eyes go wide. He was yanked from the elevator by my hired hands. Massive men, as large as Kier. With huge muscled arms and shaved heads. Kier's face gaped in confusion before he started shaking his head with a slow smirk.

"You tricked me. Moriarty didn't call us in." He chuckled darkly, his face torn between awe and hatred. I grinned back at him.

"Yep, it was a setup. I tried to warn you, but did you listen? Even had your men waiting on the opposite building taken out." I taunt. I turn to the men I hired.

"There is a knife on his leg, boys, and probably a few other weapons hidden up his arse." I snicker, pressing the button on the elevator. The six large men I hired will beat the shit out of Kier, probably killing him.

"Scarlett-" He starts, but his voice was cut off as he was punched across the jaw. The doors where almost slide closed. I waved my fingers at him, giving him a sarcastic pout. He glared, his teeth bloody as he leered at me.

"Just business." I smile, his snorted right before he was hit again. Then the doors slide closed.

* * *

><p>"Are you alright?" John asks, lifting me from the ground. Humiliating. High heels take concentration to maneuver in, something I don't waste on something as silly as walking. I'd jogged with the stairs without even realizing, and twisted my ankle. John heard the thump and came rushing down.<p>

"I'm fine." I bite out, embarrassed. He scowls, easily carrying me up the stairs. His compact, strong muscles hold me tightly to his chest. I remember as a child how I'd been beaten in the girls bathroom, for talking back to the popular girl. I'd dialed John, and within a few minutes he was there peeling me off the bathroom, not in the least disgusting by my bladder the girls had forced me to empty in my pants. He had held me tight, and whispered apologies for not being there. But John was always there.

"I told you to stop sauntering off in those high heels, you're too young." He complained grumpily. He hated how more boys had been visiting the cafe next door, trying to casually talk to me as I rush by.

"If it were the eighteenth century I'd be married off to a man your age with children by now. Maturity is a matter of perspective not age, and I'm obviously more mature than the average teenager." I reply. He sighs, raising his eyes skywards.

"That is highly debatable." He says, laying me on the couch. I glare hotly up at him.

"Try me." I counter. He gives a short laugh, smoothing his hand over my hair.

"Take off those pantyhose so I can wrap your ankle properly."

"No." I answer instantly. Annoyed he tugs at them.

"Scarlett, it's starting to swell." He points out, and it hurts. But I don't care. I'm annoyed and embarrassed. I'll just use John as a vent for my frustrations. It's very satisfying to see him get upset. His handsome face screw up with anger, and his cheeks go red. Sometimes he will ruffle up his blonde grey hair and clench his jaw. I wish I could display emotions as easily as he does.

"Take them off." He orders, yanking again. They rip, and I kick at him screaming.

"Idiot!" I shout. The door opens. Sherlock blinks at the scene. My nylons are ripped, and I have one leg draped over John's shoulder, while he holds the injured ankle in his hand. He's leaning over me trying to pin me down. It looks like rape.

"Scarlett." Sherlock pauses for a moment, looking so confused I nearly laugh. He knows John would never, but he sees the evidence with his eyes. Quickly his eyes dart around and he finds the explanation. My swollen ankle carefully cradled in John's hand. John's entire face goes beat red.

"S-Sherlock! It's not what it looks like." John yelps, of course it isn't. Both Sherlock and I know John enough to know that he has never looked at me that way. Although I find this weird. He's not truly my father, and he isn't exactly known for being the most faithful partner. He does let his eyes wander, although he would never cheat. Now that I think of it, John was my first kiss. I kept kissing him for years, quick pecks on the lips as we separated. It had started off as me mimicking my father, but somehow it had become a habit. That is until I hit puberty, then when I leaned in to kiss John he had flushed and explained it wasn't appropriate now that I was a woman.

"John ..." My fathers voice cracked. John stumbled off me, his hands shaking. One thing I would never be was as good of an actor as my father. He slipped into a role so easily it was almost like he deluded himself into believing it.

"Sherlock, I was trying to wrap her ankle. Scarlett, tell him!" John fumbled, his face so red and his voice so helpless. I laughed, and Sherlock smirked. John blushed, glaring fiercely.

"Start on dinner, will you?" Sherlock called, heading to the kitchen. John grumbled curses under his breath of revenge as he finished wrapping my ankle.

* * *

><p>"Come in." Moriarty called. I stepped into the enormous doors. Moriarty looked handsome in a dark blue suit, his dark hair slicked back while the gray stood out on the sides.<p>

"You look ravishing." He commented, I'd dressed up for our meeting. A tight white dress which had a square neck line and no sleeves. It clung to every curve and stopped right above my knees, giving to a more classy feel that my usual attire. I was learning how to dress better.

"Thank you." I say, the shiny black high heels clicking on the floor as I cross the room and sit in front of his desk. He eyes me, smiling his reptilian smile.

"Heard about that little trick you pulled on the boy. Quite clever, do have your men be more careful of that gorgeous face though. He's got another scar now, and that won't do." Moriarty scolded lightly. I nodded, never taking an order lightly from him.

"He's alive then." I sighed, crossing my legs. Moriarty grinned devilishly, folding his fingers beneath his chin.

"Yes. Wouldn't you be upset if he was?" Jim asked. I wondered were Sebastian was, it was rare to see Moriarty without his wing man. Although he had a bodyguard who was nearly invisible in the corner of the room, hiding in the shadows.

"Not in the slightest. Then we could end this absurd little game of yours." Moriarty tilted his head grinning widely.

"Come now. I've seen the videos. You care for him more than you're willing to admit." Moriarty said it surely, but he watched my reaction with a careful gaze.

"Any affection I may have had for him vanished when he betrayed me and put my family in danger." I'm boiling with anger. Kier and my relationship wasn't some object that Moriarty could dissect and evaluate. Whatever was left of what we had was private. I didn't want Moriarty involved, but it seemed that no part of my life had been untouched by the vile man.

"It was his idea you know, becoming a hit man." Moriarty informed, spinning around once in his chair than carelessly tossing his crossed ankles up on the desk.

"Why?" I asked, Moriarty licked his lips.

"For you, of course." Moriarty purred, his eyelashes fluttering dramatically like we were two girl friends gossiping.

"I don't under-"

"Because Scarlett-Dear! You are naive!" James jumped from his chair and did another spin, tucking his hands behind his back before stepping up to the glass windows. I remained silent as he continued.

"You broke little Kier's heart. He wanted to protect you, by learning the trade of murder. Comes in handy for a girl as troublesome as you. He knew people like me would eventually become infatuated with you, and he wanted to protect his little angel. But then you had to go and reject him." Jim pouted, crossing and X over his chest. A vivid memory of Kier's heart fluttering beneath my fingertips as I plugged the wound that would have killed him. Kier belonged to me. The possessiveness that suddenly rocked my body caused me to gasp in rage.

"Kier would never betray me over something so petty." I fought back. But I knew it had been true. The night we walked to the park. To my analytic mind it had been simply and argument. But for Kier it had been a life changing moment. Looking back I'd seen his wet eyes harden, his fists clench in agony. I had broken his heart. If only he had understood! I cared for him in a different way.

"But he did. Now he's mine, and soon you will be too." Moriarty turned, looking down at me with his sickening smile. I clenched my fists in my lap. Kier was mine. Or at least he had been. He seemed so different now. But I missed him so. Did I want him back? Would he even come back? If only Moriarty hadn't gotten involved when Kier had been so vulnerable- Oh!

"You targeted him! You knew he would develop those silly emotions towards me and you knew I would reject them. You waited for both of us to fall into your trap before setting us at odds!" Of course, why didn't I see it sooner? It didn't change anything of course, not really. But still, to know we had both been so predictable was bile inducing.

"My clever, clever girl. You really do need to survive this game, so I can work with you some more. That mind is just ripe for molding." He leaned down, coming close to my face again. I leaned forward, our lips a hairs width apart.

"I will kill you for everything you've done to me." I hissed against his lips. Our mouths touched for a second. Moriarty's eyes half shut as he met me burning gaze with his lustful one. I shivered in repulsion, his minty breath caused my eyes to burn.

"I look forward to it." He whispered, leaning forward.

* * *

><p>"We're gonna die. We're gonna die! Have you seen the size of Kier, he can crush me with his thumb!" Tech whined.<p>

"Shut up!" I growled into his ear. We prowled around the corner. This week event was to see who could steal the most money for Moriarty's newest business venture. I'd already hijacked one of Kier's vans which had been filled with cash. Now I was going to steal it right from under his nose.

"The men are in place." Tech sniffled, his glasses fogging up. Tech had made sure that two men who matched out heights and weights were hired. Now it was time to lure them back. I peeked around the corner, quickly dialing Tech's phone. The two men closest to our hallway turned to each other. We could see them on the small screen Tech was carrying which hacked into the security cameras.

"Go check it out!" One of the men guarding another hallway ordered. The two men turned obediently, coming towards us. I gripped my taser tightly, knocking over the first with a quick kick to the shin. I tased the one still standing before getting the man on the floor.

"Get in the uniform, quickly." I hissed to Tech who nodded. My breasts and hips had already been bound up to mimic the bank robbers stout form. Tech's man was tall and lanky, like himself. The uniforms where classic all blank with a almost fencer like mask to cover the face.

"Let's go." I sighed to Tech who had paused to stare at me undressing. How trivial. Dragging the men's naked bodies to the nearest closet we shoved them inside.

"Heard enough of his voice to copy it?" I asked Tech who nodded, clearing his throat as we gripped the guns we had taken from the two men.

"It was nothing." Tech replied to the man guarding the other door in a nearly identical voice. He could have tricked me, maybe even Sherlock if he wasn't paying attention.

"Good, wait for orders." The men said. We stood by the hallway, copying the men's stance as we listened to the drilling going on behind the clerks desk. All the hostages had been rallied up into one of the four hallways that of the massive bank. Kier had been precise on placing his people behind the desk so no would push the emergency button. This bank was huge, holding one of the worlds largest diamonds and a mountain of cash.

"We're through." Kier called, wiping his sweaty brow. He was in a spot where there were no cameras, although all of them had been taken out. Unlike Moriarty, Kier did his own work. He rolled onto his back, raising his strong legs to slam into the metal circle he had carved into. The iron creaked and made a metallic noise as the part of the metal door he had drilled into feel open. Kier began throwing out bags, and me and Tech made our way to the back door, carrying them out to the getaway van. Within minutes the van was full.

"Alright, let's go." Kier said, depositing the diamond into my hands without a second thought. The man I had taken out was one of his most trusted goons. I was supposed to go and ride with him, I veered off to follow Tech to the van which was filled with the money. The diamond and the cash where supposed to be in two separate vans. Kier was going with the diamond in the first one, and the men he hired could take the money, which was only a fraction of what the diamond was worth. I was taking both.

"Go, go, go!" I shouted, swinging open the door and jumping in. The four other men where jogging to the car, thinking we where waiting for them. Hilarious. We sped off, tires screeching as we heard sirens echo off the building. A walkie talkie buzzed between me and Tech, Tech was driving so I grabbed it.

"Rendezvous at Merrimont." Kier said, not sounding the least surprised I had taken the diamond into the wrong van. Oh! He had planned on leaving the men he had hired at the bank, stealing both the cash and the money! Greedy bastard! Allowing the police to apprehend his men, while he made off with the money. Kier was smarter than I gave him credit for. We had followed his original plan without realizing it.

"Actually, I was thinking of going to purchase these new heels I was looking at. They have the cutest straps." I taunted into the speaker. The line crackled with silence for a moment.

"You. Fucking. Bitch." Kier finally spat out. I laughed fondling the cool diamond in my palm.

"Leaving your men behind while you make of with the money and the jewel. I think common people might refer to this as instant karma." I grinned, nuzzling down comfortably into the chair. Silence was my answer. I confusedly looked back to Tech. Kier was usually the king of comebacks. Something was up.

"I don't believe in karma. I believe in preparation." Kier said ominously, the line going staticky in the silence. I hummed, casually glance in the rear view mirror. Kier was hanging out the window of the other get-a-way van and leveling a very large, very dangerous looking bazooka-like gun at the back of our van. I gripped the steering wheel, veering to the left just as the missile whizzed by the van, scraping along it and taking off the door that Tech was driving on. Tech screamed like a girl.

"You asshole!" I screamed, hanging out the window. Kier rolled a grenade in his palm, displaying it to me before clamping his mouth over the safety pin and giving a sharp tug. His face was alight with amusement and I couldn't help but think how handsome he looked with his messy blonde-brown hair fluttering up off his forehead.

"Don't worry, baby! It will only sting for a minute!" He yelled back, throwing the explosive at our van with force.


	17. Chapter 17

I do not own BBC Sherlock.

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

"Go right!" I scream. The car swerved onto the sidewalk. The vehicle groans as it lifts onto two wheels from the force of the grenade exploding in the street.

"Give me your gun!" I screamed to Tech. I had training in firearms. Minimal from my father and John, but Moriarty had Sebastian teach me some while I had been working for him. Protection and all. I didn't usually carry a gun on me. I berated myself for not bringing one just in case. Tech fumbled to hand me the weapon. Leaning out the window.

"Anyone ever tell you what a pain in the ass you are?" Kier asks, his hat fixed snugly onto his head as he sits on the window ledge, his zip up jacket flapping around his lean torso from the high speed of the cars. He's assembling a sniper, fixing the scopes.

"An old friend but I learned his word wasn't good for much." I shoot back, pulling the gun to level at his heart. He raised an eyebrow before he smirking easily. He didn't even attempt to raise the sniper, just waited for me to shoot. A perfect, clear shot. I hesitated. My stomach clenched and images of the first time Kier and I met flashed into my mind. His confidence as I was bullied, telling me to stand up for myself, like John had. His hands in his pockets, his sneakers scuffing the rocky ground. Kier.

I pulled the trigger. The car behind us swerved and Kier went flying from the window, rolling violently to the middle of the street. The sniper was still strapped to his chest.

"Nice shot!" He coughed, muscles flexing as he lifted himself weakly from the ground. We made our getaway. He became smaller and smaller in the mirror. I'd shot the driver in his shoulder. I couldn't shoot Kier. I loved him.

* * *

><p>"I'm home." I call to the flat, dragging my sore feet across the carpet. My high heels dangling from my hand. Sherlock comes stumbling into the room, looking panicked.<p>

"John's going to leave me." Sherlock gasped, gripping my shoulders. Sherlock was drunk. It was the first time I'd seen him do so since the time he thought John was cheating on him.

"What?" I demand. John can't leave us. I've never been so shaken from such a sentence. John can't leave, he's John!

"He's called a Realtor and has a separate bank account he's kept hidden from me. I went through his mail and he's been making large investments for the last few months. He's looking at a flat in Knotting Hill." Sherlock looked close to breaking down. I felt tears gather in my eyes. I couldn't cry in front of Sherlock! I couldn't. But none the same, my throat went tight and my stomach fell. John ...

"The bloody tube was packed." John complained, entering abruptly.

"Don't say a word." Sherlock hissed, the stench of alcohol heavy on his breath. I nodding and we both separated. Sherlock going to fall onto the couch while I shakily went to my room. I heard John's strong voice, worried as usual.

"What's wrong?" He asked his lover. I couldn't cry. Sherlock, Mycroft, and I were different. Forced to live a life of logic and solitude because of our minds. We could never have happiness for long. And John was the happiest thing Sherlock and I had in our lives and we have driven him away.

* * *

><p>"Scarlett Holmes! What in bloody hell is this?" John roared, stomping into my room. He waved a letter in the air and I blinked.<p>

"I'm brilliant, not a mind reader." I snap. I've been touchy with John, and so has Sherlock. We've been isolating him, making him feel unwelcome. Sherlock forbids me to say a thing before he finds more evidence. He wants to see if he can fix it, but we both are preparing ourselves to let go of the man we hold closest to our hearts.

"Don't get sassy with me, why haven't you been going to school?" John demands, coming to sit at my sit. A stern frown I've grown used to.

"I don't see how it affects you." I say coldly. The hurt on his face nearly kills me. I nearly apologize, beg for his forgiveness and beg him not to leave us. I want to tell him how much we need him, how much he means to us. But I don't, I glare at him until he leaves.

* * *

><p>I saunter up to the gallery desk.<p>

"I'm here to meet with the director. My name is Detective Donovan." I flash the badge and the lady at the desk hands me a visitors pass.

"He's at the auction in suit D." The woman smiles. I smile back.

"Thank you." I say politely, dropping the smile as I hurry up the stairs. Sidestepping at the last moment to slip into a hallway. The locker room is filled with the security guard uniforms. Going to the furthest closed locker I find the bright orange jump suit neatly folded at the bottom. Pulling off my skirt I shimmy into it with practiced ease. Yanking my hair into a hurried low ponytail, I slip on the worn blue cap. An image of Kier's similar one pops into mind. I ignore it and hurry out the doors, smacking on gum.

"Easy! That's worth millions!" A man shouts as they ease the Monet's 'Women in the Garden' from the back of the van. I pick up a discarded clip board. Confidence is key. Pushing the cell phone I nod, getting into the act.

"Yeah, yeah. I got it boss!" I call impatiently. The line is silent, the men turn to look at me.

"They're just bringing it in now, I'll have them send it back. No problem." I sigh into the phone.

"Did we get the wrong museum?" The man asks, nodding to my identical uniform and van.

"No, I'm new. They're hiring me to go around and make sure things are running smoothly." I lie easily. The men hesitantly look at each other.

"You guys the ones bringing the Monet?" I finally as the men directly. My accent is easy going and simple. I flip over the clipboard, grunting.

"Yeah, it was scheduled to be ship-"

"Yeah, I know. Well, we got the order wrong. They wanted 'Woman in the Garden", not 'Women'." I say disgruntled. The mistake was often, I'm sure the men have gotten it mistaken more then once. They both groaned and rolled there eyes.

"You said they wanted Women!" The smaller man yelled, the fatter man shrunk back.

"They did!" He shouted back.

"Well, we're shipping it back. This museum wants 'Woman'." I call over my shoulder. The identical van to theirs is sitting beside their van in the garage, tauntingly. The company that ships the art pieces is small. The men think I work in their unit. One of their phones go off. Tech. Perfect timing.

"Hello, hey boss-" The man winces, he sends a panicked look to his friend. Tech is a master of imitating voices.

"Right away." The man mutters.

"We're dead. We have fifteen minutes to get back to the warehouse and pick up the new delivery." The man whimpers. I pretend to pause, glancing at my van and gnawing my lip. I turn back around.

"Hey new girl, you think you could help us out?" The man asks wearily. There are two separate warehouses. Ones that need to be shipped, and ones on hiatus until a museum requests them. It's safer so that if a break in happens not all of London's art will be in one space. But it also makes for more confusion.

"What do you mean?" I ask unsure. The man breaks out into a smile at my suddenly feeble voice. Idiots.

"Could you take this back to the West Warehouse?" The fat man breaks in, his voice desperate.

"I don't know-" I mutter. Internally I'm impatiently waiting for them to load the art piece into my van.

"Aw, come on. Please?" The smaller one asks.

"Okay." I sigh. They place the piece into my van and I grin as I drive off. Another couple of million in the bag.

* * *

><p>Sherlock and I stare blankly at the screen. There lays all the evidence we need. John is leaving.<p>

**'Sherlock and Scarlett are acting strange. I'm looking at new flats (I don't think I can handle this much longer), email me if you have any available.'** John's blog reads simply.

"We can still convince him to stay." I try. Sherlock remains silent, before going for his coat.

* * *

><p>"Oh, I've always been a fan of Monet. I love the erratic brushstrokes." Moriarty grins. I hum in bored agreement. Not really listening. Sebastian is standing behind the painting, holding it up for Moriarty to view. I'm sitting on Jim's desk, digging my heels into his expensive wood.<p>

"Who's winning?" I ask. "And what exactly is the prize?" I continue. I never really asked. I was encouraged to join because of my parents (soon to be parent) involvement in this stupid game. But it was best to gather as much data as I could.

"The prize is a lifelong position at my side, and the loser will be put to death. You're winning, my cunning little fox." He purrs, stroking my hair. I kiss his palm, nuzzling into it.

"How long until you name the victor?" I ask. My father was truly handsome, why he didn't use flirting as a tool more often was beyond me. I was not above luring men in with my charms. I was learning very quickly that even the smallest smiles could change mans will. Pathetic. I was fully prepared to exploit these weaknesses. It seems Moriarty was especially susceptible to flattery and the such.

"Two more days, then the last battle of wits will commence." Moriarty cooed, stroking my cheek with his thumb. Sebastian was ... jealous? I nearly laughed at the glare he was shooting at me when he thought I was focused on Moriarty's handsome face. They really were like the darker version of Sherlock and John, although my fathers weren't exactly angels.

"Your pet is getting jealous." I said, Sebastian stiffened. Jim's eyes widened a fraction and he turned with confusion, almost as if he had forgotten his lover was in the room.

"He is very territorial, I've been trying to housebreak him." Moriarty said with amusement. Sebastian scowled, flipping the sheet back over the painting and wrapping it back up. He lifted it and began heading for the door.

"I didn't excuse you, Sebastian." Moriarty called. The massive man stopped immediately, ducking his head. I could see his jaw clench before his relaxed. I walked past him on my way to the door. Moriarty's eyes had lit up darkly at the submission. Lust.

"Good dog." I whispered. Sebastian froze before returning to his lover.

* * *

><p>"A woman, woman!" Sherlock shouted at my question. He was in a frenzy, his curls wild and his blue eyes on the brink of insanity.<p>

"Yes, but what was she wearing? Her demeanor? Can't Mycroft get us information?" I ask. Sherlock claws at his hair, shaking his head manically.

"No, no! I won't ask his for help. He'll never let me live this down." Sherlock panted, throwing himself on the couch. He'd taken drugs. Heroin probably. His eyes couldn't focus, but his brain was still on full speed. He would slump soon. I needed all the information I could get from him.

"How do you know she and John were on a date?" I ask.

"It was a lunch date. John knows I would notice him spending dinner with someone. She was dressed up nicely, and John was wearing his 'lady killer' shirt. He kissed her chastely, so they must have just started the relationship. But they got on well." Sherlock rambled, his voice thickening. I eased him down to lay on the couch. His body was trembling. I hesitated before stroking his damp forehead. I didn't know what to do. John would, if he wasn't out running around.

"It could be a mistake-"

"Scarlett. It wasn't. John is leaving us! He doesn't give a damn, and why should he! We're freaks! Machines without feelings! How could I ever expect him to love me!" Sherlock rasped, his throat cracking with emotion. I'd never seen so much emotion in his eyes. So much agony. I kissed his cheek.

"You seen to be feeling a lot for a machine." I pointed out. Sherlock let out a sudden short laugh, his eyes welling. He placed his large hand over his eyes. I saw the tears spill out through his fingers as he sobbed. He was lost in oblivion. The drugs pulling him away from reality. Even in such a state he kept repeating his name.

"John ... John ... Please, don't leave me." Sherlock sobbed, covering his eyes. I cried with him. The two machines leaking oil for hours.

* * *

><p>"Heard you're winning." Kier called black shirt and the baseball cap in place. He'd taken to carrying around a guitar case slung across his large back which held his assembled sniper. He was now a criminal, many of Moriarty's enemies were targeting him. Since Sebastian's injury from the airport explosion, Kier had taken over being the cities top hit man.<p>

"It's startling how you could delude yourself even for a moment into thinking you actually stood a chance." I mutter, sipping the iced tea I'd purchased. I flipped the page in the medical text book I'd stolen from Bart's.

"Don't get too cocky," He grunted, flopping down into the chair after setting the guitar case covered in random stickers on the table. His long legs bumped mine, his sneakers trailing my bear leg. I was wearing a conservative sun dress, which was a pale blue to match my eyes. Moriarty sent the cloths and I wore them. What did I care how he wanted me to dress? As long as I won. I looked like a child in the simple dress and straw hat.

"And why not, I've got three hundred million more dollars then you. There is no way you'll be able to catch up." I counter, flipping another page. It was hot today, the sun beating down on my uncovered arms and legs. I took another sip of tea. Kier was annoying me.

"Look up." He ordered. I tilted back my head, trying to focus on the sky around the blaring sunlight. A plane flew by, I'd subconsciously registered the noise.

"So?" I asked.

"Killed a royal family in Europe this weekend, dirty work but it got me half the treasury. It's heading to my bank account right now." He grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. Damn it! A self assured smile was on his face.

"Murderer!" I hissed. I'd seen the news. Some vague German royal family had been killed. Even the teenage son and daughter.

"You don't think that Tyrant you helped gain power is going to be handing out puppies do you? Even you aren't that naive, Scar. Whoever I've killed, you've done just as much." He leaned over the table easily, his warm breath uncomfortable on my cheek. I stiffened and he took the tea, taking a sip and wincing.

"You always drank this stuff too sweet." He complained, sliding it back to me.

"The bond forgeries, I have my team working on it right now." I interjected as he stood to leave. He grinned, slipping the guitar case strap over his chest.

"Just something to keep you preoccupied." He smirked. I knew it had been too easy! I should have gone with my instincts! I knew Kier was smart but I wasn't giving him enough credit. He was brilliant.

"Checkmate." He grinned, whistling as he strolled away. I had one day to come up with fifty million dollars or die.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More reviews! Suggestions, favorite characters, anything? **


	18. Chapter 18

I do not own BBC Sherlock.

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

She never did realize how pretty she really was. I'd seen pictures of Irene and she'd only inherited a few of her more feminine features, she looked almost identical to her ethereal looking father. I remember as a kid seeing tears in her strange blue green eyes as some boys teased her for being strange. They called her a freak.

"You gonna let them talk to you like that?" I asked, looking down at her. Even as kids she was still so tiny. Fragile features, and pale sad eyes were so shocking I nearly gasped.

"I-I can't do anything about it." She said weakly. But there was fire behind her eyes. I remember a flash of annoyance at how pitiful she sounded. I'd been told stories about Sherlock since I could remember, and his daughter was the little girl crying before me.

"You can fight back." I suggested. Her eyes went wide with shock before hardening. She whirled on the boys and began rattling off embarrassing facts.

"You still wet the bed, and you pick your nose and eat it. And you think _I'm_ the freak?" She snapped, waving her hands around. The boys blanched stepping forward to shove her again. I glared at them over her shoulder and they scampered off. That was the begging of our friendship. Me always standing behind her, willing to be backup while she took center stage. I never minded. Everyone admired her. No one would say it out loud, too intimidated by her sharp words and even sharper cheekbones, but I saw them. Boys would shoot longing glances more and more often as we grew up. At first I was grossed out, thinking of her as more of a friend or a little girl. But suddenly she was the only girl I could think about, and I fell for her hard.

"Eventually the acid would leak out though, right?" She questioned aloud, answering her own question a few seconds later. I was fourteen when I first saw one of Moriarty's snipers trained on her and I thought I would vomit from the bile coiling in my stomach. I shoved her into a candy shop and bought her a a chocolate bar while she mumbled about the ingredients. That night I began my first session with my father in learning how to handle snipers, within two weeks I was carrying one on me at all times.

"Why are you carrying a gun?" Sherlock asked, not seeming especially worried despite me being barely fourteen.

"Protection." I answer back curtly. John isn't in the room or he would throw a fit and demand to speak to the fake foster parents I barely ever visit unless for appearance sake. Sherlock shifts in his chair, holding out his hand. Even though I'm supposed to hate him, I'm supposed to want to hurt him I can't. He reminds me so much of Scarlett. And in his own way he treats me with affection. He's the closest think to a true father I have. I place the pistol in his hand and he weighs it, glancing at me before frowning.

"You got this from a man in the military. Who?" He asks, but he knows. I see it in his eyes, because even though I was practically raised at 221B he's never really paid me much attention unless me and John were bonding over football and he was glaring at me.

"I stole it." Which is a lie. But I'm so good at lying that even Sherlock had trouble figuring out the truth from me. He hesitates before handing it back.

"Do you know how to work it?" Sherlock asks. What he really means to say is that I'm hanging around his kid so I better not be playing with guns that I don't know how to handle. I'm not the only one who doesn't say what he thinks out loud. I smile.

"Yes." I say truthfully. He levels me a glance and nods.

"You're close to my daughter, if she is in danger I trust you will protect her." He says, and for some reason it makes the backs of my eyes burn. Sherlock knows I know how to kill a man twice my size and know how to shoot guns with nearly perfect accuracy and am learning how to snipe from far away distances but he lets me stay, because he trusts me.

"I promise." I declare, and Sherlock looks at me again and my face burns as he offers me a small smile.

"Good."

But that was a long time ago. Scarlett and I are both on the brink of adulthood and I've lied so many times to the Holmes' family that I've lost count. I've made so many promises and broken them that the word promise is almost amusing to me now. But that one promise, to protect Scarlett. Even if I'd made it when I was just a kid, and there is no way I could possibly protect a girl who is so wild and danger seeking, I still cling to the words. I sometimes dream them. I'm Scarlett's protector, even though more than once she's saved my ass, I still want to be there if she needs me. But she never does, until now.

* * *

><p>Kier won't look at me.<p>

"This didn't turn out, quite as I planned." Moriarty frowned. I laid beaten at his feet, held up by two men. The suit I wore was similar to Moriarty's own.

"Yes. Well, you never can predict a Holmes. Excluding my Uncle's rather strange obsession with cakes and other pastries." I smirked as Moriarty chuckled.

"Quite, so. But stealing from me? That's bold. Even for you Scarlett." Moriarty laughs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"There was only a fifty-fifty chance you would have caught me. Either way, I was going to die. At least this way I'll go out with a bang." I wink. He sighs, Kier is standing by his father and I remotely realize it's the first time I've seen then together. The resemblance is uncanny.

"True. I was rooting for you though. It's such a shame, you could have been great." Moriarty sighs, holding out his hand. I've lost.

I planned an extravagant heist to rob Moriarty's own private funds. Everything had been in place. I'd almost gotten away with it. The only thing that had ruined it all was that right when I was sneaking out John decided to call me, and my phone had gone off. I'd forgotten to turn off my bloody phone and it had ruined everything. I was dead because of a phone call.

"Pity I won't get to spend my youth catering to your ever whim." I snarked back. Moriarty frowned, aiming the gun at my head.

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit." He reminds.

"Other than, of course, idiots lacking wit." I'm being a brat. But might as well. If I'm going to die on my knees like a dog then I should at least have some fun before hand.

"You are catty, I do adore your sense of humor." Moriarty smiles, cocking his gun.

"No as much as I love your delicate eyebrows." I sneer, said eyebrows shoot up and he bites back a laugh.

"Insulting the man with a gun to your head? Are you really so dumb?" Moriarty asked, amusement coloring his features. Kier stood behind him silently, looking out the vast window. I wonder when my brains splattered all over the office if he would even bother to tell John and Sherlock for me.

"Coming from the man who has had the bee gees as his ring tone for twenty years." I grunt. He presses the gun to my temple, scowling.

"The bee gees rock." Moriarty said, his face surly.

"I'm not a big fan of wailing hippies with disco undertones." I shrug, my shoulders ache. Moriarty drops his arm in exasperation.

"Their harmonies where ground breaking!" Moriarty argued. Was I honestly spending my last moments on earth arguing over some disco bands legitimacy?

"More like ear splitting. The lead singer has a shrill voice, reminds me of a drunken harpie." I huff. Moriarty's mouth falls open in over dramatic bewilderment.

"His voice is phenomenal!" Moriarty shouts.

"Phenomenally terrible." I counter. He lifts the gun, shooting me directly between the eyes.

* * *

><p>Everything is black. I'm surprised I didn't wet my pants, most people do when faced with death. Sounds are heightened around me. Screaming, gun shots. Two men arguing. The smell of gun powder and blood.<p>

"You little bastard!" Someone snarls.

"Fuck off, old man." A calm cool voice breathes out heavily. Keir. Why would he speak to his father like that? I thought they were a team?

"Sebastian!" Moriarty screams. More gunshots and I faint again.

* * *

><p>Someone is stroking my forehead. Strong calloused fingers. John? I mumble his name and the fingers stiffen.<p>

"It's me." Kier drones, obviously annoyed. Why, because I called John's name? Strange.

"I'm alive." I state, opening my eyes before quickly shutting them against the harsh light. From the image of Kier peering down at me and the ugly walls I deduced we were in his shady apartment.

"Yeah. I almost killed Sebastian, he might not walk again." Kier sighs. I can smell his masculine scent.

"Sherlock and John, are they okay?" I ask carefully. Kier snorts, giving a short cruel laugh.

"They're fine. Moriarty and Sebastian ran off to Europe when they realized I'd bought out all of Moriarty's criminals and had his men working for me." Kier said easily. I looked up in shock, uncaring off my sore eyes.

"You what?" I demanded. Kier shrugs, his thumb tracing over my palm.

"I turned his men against him. Being that unhinged makes for a lot of enemies. People tend to side with the more sane of criminals that keep their promises." He glanced out of the window. The silver scar on his eyebrow was highlighted at the angle.

"You've been double crossing Moriarty?" I whisper in shock. He nods once, a short quick movement.

"Of course." He mutters, irritated again. Why? I don't understand.

"I don't understand. You betrayed me. " I hiss, sitting up. Wincing at the sharp pain in my ribs, I hold my tightly bandaged torso. Kier's glaring at me, gently pushing me back down onto his small cot.

"I've been trained since I was a kid to hate you, and your family. When other kids got toy cars I was getting sniper rifles. My life hasn't been exactly easy, Scar. I had a lunatic and a murderer raise me. You were my only friend. So for years I've been plotting against Moriarty, taking over his assets and acquaintances. He didn't suspect a thing, but I knew he was going to turn us against each other. I kind of thought he would wait till you were a bit older though. I wasn't prepared yet and so I got stuck in the role of playing your enemy." Kier said, his fingers trailing up my wrist. I pulled away from him sharply.

"This is part of Moriarty's game." I nearly shout, the panic in my voice is tangible. Kier's narrow, almond shaped eyes harden.

"I never abandoned you, Scar. You really think I'd miss the shot I did when you where on the motorcycle? Everything I did was to protect you. I was just playing the game." Kier says, reaching for me again. I flinch and he drops his large hands, his eyes burning.

"You don't trust me." He says slowly, as if the words are incomprehensible.

"Of course I don't. I don't have a single reason too." I dig my fingers into my thighs. My chest hurts. This was another lie, right? I couldn't believe it, I couldn't. It was a trap. Kier was dead, the only one left was X.

"I did all of this for you! I knew Moriarty would make us play this stupid game and you'd die! I planned everything, Scar! I even protected Sherlock and John for you. Please, believe me." He was begging now, it was not like him at all to show so much emotion.

"You were acting, the entire time we were enemies?" I ask carefully. He nods carefully, his lips smashed together.

"I'd never hurt you. I love you." He said simply. Those stupid words again. It was all so stupid.

"Shut up." I say. He sighs deeply, cradling his head in his hand.

"You're scared. You'll realize it's all over, and then forgive me." He says more to himself, his voice reassuring. I flush as he drops his head into my lap, still seated in the chair at my bedside. He has hat hair from taking off the cap I'd bought him so many years ago.

"It's over?" I ask in a small whisper. I sound much too fragile for my liking. He nods slowly, burying his face in the blankets.

"It's over." He murmurs. We both fall asleep.

* * *

><p>"Sherlock, are you high?" John's voice is tight and displeased, he's trying to keep his temper in check.<p>

"Quite. I've upped the dosage from seven percent to fifteen." Sherlock grins loosely, the smile looks so strange on his usually strict features. I'm sitting in John's chair, watching my father giggle on the couch.

"What is wrong with you?" John's voice is angrier than I've heard it in a long time. Good.

"You can hardly blame him." I call from across the room. I'm tired of creeping around the facts. Sherlock has been incorrigible, drinking and drugging himself into oblivion. At his older age it's taking a toll on his body, he needs to get it out in the open and have John finally leave so he can move on or die.

"Scarlett-" Sherlock warns, even in his muddled state he sends a panicked look to his lover. He'd rather play dumb and have John stick around for longer, then actually bring it out into the open and have John leave. He's let sentiment blind him to logic. Idiot.

"What do you mean?" John asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. I glare at him. How could he leave us? My second father who has been more of a father to me than Sherlock. Sherlock who I adore but never held me when I cried, or ruffled my hair when I brought home an A. John was the only tenderness I had in my life. Well I suppose Kier could be sappy at times, if not overly so.

"I mean, he's just learned his partner of twenty years is skipping out on him and doesn't even have the decency to tell him directly." I snap, my voice is like a crack of lightening in a dark room.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" John asked, looking confounded. Playing dumb? That was unlike John. He owned up to his mistakes. He was a soldier.

"I had to find out through your stupid blog that you're leaving me!" The drugs allow emotions to leak into Sherlock's shaky voice.

"I'm not leaving you, although I can't say it hasn't crossed my mind from the way you've been carrying on lately." John said shortly, but without any real bite to his tone. He tries to pull away from Sherlock's tight grasp on his jumper sleeve.

"What?" I demand. But Sherlock is absorbing every word slowly, choking as John flushes.

"But the separate bank account, the young woman you've been meeting with?" I hiss. Sherlock's eyes have gone soft and watery. He may believe such syrupy words, but I still remember the facts. John looks embarrassed and I feel triumphant and defeated at the same time.

"I knew you were going off to college soon. I've been looking for a flatmate for you, I know how much you're going to miss Jenny so I was trying to find someone like her to room with you. I've been saving money up, I kept it hidden from Sherlock so he wouldn't spent it on experiments." John smiles fondly at Sherlock who is clutching his jumper in large pale hands, stained with tobacco.

"You were looking for a flat in knotting hill." I whisper. John rolls his eyes, ignoring Sherlock who his rubbing John's fingers against his cheek.

"Yeah, so you can be close by the college and us." John smiles, his eyes lighting up. Of course, I knew John would never leave us. Okay, I'd doubted him. But I should have known he would be doing something loving and fatherly. I want to throw my arms around him, to bask him in affection and thanks. But Sherlock seems to be taking care of that.

"John, John, John." Sherlock keeps murmuring his name, a pretty smile on his face and tears in his red rimmed eyes.

"Sherlock, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere." John sighs, dropping back to Sherlock's side. Sherlock yanks him down into a frenzied kiss. I dash from the room when Sherlock's hand slips beneath his jumper.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Why isn't anyone review? Have you lost interest in the story? **


	19. The End

I do not own BBC Sherlock.

* * *

><p>.o0Sherlock0o.<p>

Epilouge:

"Hey, Moran." Jones greeted. He was the new head detective now that Lestrade had retired and moved to the private island he and Mycroft had purchased somewhere in the Mediterranean. Jones was a man with dark skin and large brown eyes. When he smiles it was blindingly white.

"Hey." I nodded, glancing down at the body. A man in his mid twenties. I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for her to show.

"Where's Scarlett, I phoned her twenty minutes ago." Jones complained.

"She's probably still in class." I mutter, there is a commotion outside and I smirk. High heels tapping against the wooden floors and suddenly she appears. At twenty two Scarlett is all woman. Busty with a slim waist which flares out into round hips, the kid looks like she could be one of those American pin up girls. Her hair is curled loosely around her face, and shes wearing bright red lipstick, her favorite.

"Jones." She says his name, not even looking up at him. She drops to her knee beside the dead man, her hands trailing carefully over his oozing chest. She hasn't even looked at me yet. Bitch.

"Hey, Scar. How's school?" I ask, she ignores me. Her cheeks dusting pink. I was recruited into the M15, which is the equivalent to the FBI in the states. After me breaking a record of bank heists and bond forgery, they offered me life in prison or to consult as an agent. I chose the latter.

"The gun used was bought from the black market, from Russia. See the tattoo, this is from a clan out of Ireland. We're dealing with a multinational gang war." Scarlett muttered more to herself than to either of us. Despite Scarlett getting terrible grades in highschool, she had passed the exam to get into Med school. Much to John elation she was becoming a Doctor. Since she was still so early in her schooling, she was doing side jobs as a medical examiner.

"You're supposed to tell us how he was killed, Miss. Holmes. Not tell us who the murderer was, that's our job." Jones looks amused as he scribbles down the information she had rattled off. She ignored him, continuing.

"He's a single father, he has two children. I'll find them before the gang sends one of their men after them." She stands up briskly.

"How do you know?" Jones calls after her, his brow furrowed. I follow Scarlett out of the room.

"Once again, Jones. You see, but you don't observe!" She flashes him a smile before disappearing.

* * *

><p>"You need some assistance, Miss Holmes?" I taunt, leaning on the door beside her. The children are hiding inside and she's trying to pick the lock to retrieve them.<p>

"Not in the slightest." She huffs. Stepping back, she kicks the door in. I grin down at her.

"You know, I could recruit you. Being an agent has to be more fun then having your head buried in books all day." I try. I want Scarlett as my partner, in more ways then one. She curses.

"I hate Feds. The kids aren't here." She says, sweeping in and out of the rooms. I finger the gun at my side, in case a crook pops up somewhere. I won't hesitate to kill, something that makes me invaluable as an agent. Most recruits my age are moral.

"I miss you, we barely get to see each other." I complain. Which is only partially true.

"We see each other almost every day." She hisses, annoyed. I moved into the flat beside hers a few months back, where she lives with her flatmate.

"It's not enough." I murmur into her ear, having to stoop down to get to her tiny form. She makes a cute noise in the back of her throat before whirling around. She's preparing to bite my head off when her eyes zone in one something behind my shoulder.

"Fascinating." She hums, moving forward. A recent picture of the victim and his children. I don't see why she finds it so interesting.

"What?" I ask. She points and behind them blearily is a man in a long black trench coat.

"Grim?" I wonder aloud. Grim was the nickname of the serial killer who took pleasure in torturing children before murdering them. The Gangs were hiring him to take care of the families children, most thugs couldn't bear the thought to kill kids. I had been tracking him down with the help of Scarlett's 'medical expertise'.

"We have to find those kids." She grits out.

* * *

><p>"Where are we going?" I ask. She doesn't answer. Long reddish brown hair rolls over her shoulders to bounce with every step she takes. I'm a federal agent, trained an qualified to take down terrorists and killers. But I'll never be as skilled as the girl deep in thought, briskly walking before me.<p>

"To save the children." She says simply. I roll my eyes as she leads me into a toy store. Lifting a small pillow from beneath the head of a plastic babies cradle, she tucks it under her jacket, over her flat stomach. The small bump looks strange on her well proportioned body.

"What are you doing?" I ask in confusion. She slides her arm around mine, smiling up at me lovingly. My heart shutters, every since I was shot in the grave yard when we were teenagers, my chest will sometimes convulse if Scarlett does something affectionate. The scar burns when she lays her cheek over my heart.

"Darling, that's too expensive." She says gently, my smile falters. She's acting. My heart stops beating rapidly and I slap on a fake smile. God, I hate when she plays with me like that. I hate even more that I fall for it nearly every time, the burst of hope in my chest is unbearable.

"Nothings too expensive for my angel." I press lips to her forehead, and she blinks up at me naively.

"Can I help you?" A girl asks, coming up to us with an adoring smile. The suit I'm wearing is standard issue for agents, but I guess it makes me look like a businessman.

"My wife and me are looking for ... stuff, we got a kid on the way." I grin at her, and her eye lids flicker. Scarlett possessively wraps her arm around me tighter. My smile widens.

"Right this way, we have a large collection." She says, spreading her arms.

"Vast." I mutter under my breath. It's a game we play, when regular people say something simple like 'large' or 'small, or 'happy' or 'sad' we replace the words with something more appropriate. Just large snobbish words.

"Extensive." Scarlett chimes in, a tiny smile on her usually stoic face.

"What?" The girl asks over her shoulder. Scarlett snickers.

"Nothing." I assure.

"What are you having?" The girl asks. Me and Scarlett answer at the same time.

"A baby." Scarlett answers promptly.

"A girl." I cut in, and shoot her a look of disbelief. She looks confused for a moment before realizing the girl was talking about the child's gender. I shake my head, leveling her a dull look. She's just so dense sometimes.

"Do you have a manager we could speak to? We're looking for something off the shelves." Scarlett says after we are forced to listen to the girl ramble on about all the baby bottles they have.

"Of course. I'll be right back." The young woman wanders away. Scarlett lets go of my arm and I frown. I wish she was more affectionate, but then again, she wouldn't be my Scarlett.

"Why are we here?" I ask, scratching my hair. Scarlett is studying a breast pump with distaste.

"The manager is Grim." She informs.

"How do you-?"

"Hello." A sickly voice echoes. The voice is hallow and dry, I shiver. Scarlett looks up, her eyes flashing.

"Hi. I was wondering where you keep the children." She says, not breaking character. The man is tall and willowy, his skin is almost a gray color and his eyes are black. Thin white hair is combed over a liver spotted head.

"I'm sorry?" He asks, not in the least looking scared. Scarlett is completely unafraid of the murderer. She steps up close to him, her blue eyes burning.

"The children, before you rip them to shreds where do you take them? Your home perhaps?" Scarlett snarls into his face. The man looks honestly confused, but Scarlett has a wicked smile on her face.

"What do you mean?" He asks. Her smile is vicious. Scarlet doesn't need protection, people need protection from her. She tugs the man down to her diminutive height.

"I know what you do behind closed doors. Twenty quid that blood under your finger nails isn't yours." She hisses into his ear. The man shoves her away and she braces herself, taking a quick step back. The gun at my hip is suddenly missing as she points it at the man.

"Hands in the air!" She snaps. The man is smart though, he ducks behind my large body using me as a shield as he wheels around into another isle.

"You stupid, huge idiot!" She yells at me as she bolts after the man. She tosses the gun back to me and I shove it into the holster hidden beneath my jacket.

"I'm the agent, you're not even supposed to be holding a gun without a license!" I inform as we chase after the older man. Damn, he is fast.

"Oh, spare me! I'm a better shot, and you know it!" She huffs. Maybe with a handgun, but I was by far the better riflemen. Scarlett didn't have the patience to snipe a target.

"I was a hit man. I think I'm a little better qualified!" I counter sarcastically. She snorts, kicking off her high heels as we exit the store. The man has jumped into his car. Scarlett swings her leg over her solid black motorcycle, I shimmy on behind her.

"A hit man who couldn't kill a seventeen year old girl!" She reminds, having to yell as the wind picks up around us. I groan, rolling my eyes.

"I told you, I missed you on purpose!" I snapped into her ear, letting my stubbled chin brush her cheek. She shivered, shouldering me back. I folded my hands over her soft hips.

"Yeah, right." She sniffs. Even after all these years she still doesn't trust me. As a twenty five year old man, I shouldn't be affected by something so childish as a her holding a grudge. But I am.

"Scar." My voice scolding, and she smirks. She swerves around and chases the man. He doesn't see us, Scarlett is keeping a far enough distance. Her plan is for him to lead us right to the kids, now that he thinks he's lost us.

"How do you know he is going home?" I ask her. She shifts her hips on the bike and I grit my teeth. Tease.

"We know where he works, he probably thinks we have his address. He's going to either kill the kids and clean up his mess, or he's going to try and move them. Either way, he'll lead us there." She says. Once again, I'm confounded by how amazing she is.

* * *

><p>"Scarlett, no!" I whisper, barely missing her ankle as she slides into the tiny basement window, out of my reach. The momentary panic of her slipping through my fingers is too familiar. It hurts. I couldn't fit into the hole if I wanted too. Scarlett's curvy hips even get stuck for a moment before she slips in.<p>

"Shut up, call Jones." She throws me her cellphone and disappears into the darkened room.

"At least take my gu-" My gun isn't on my hip. She took it. Scarlett is daring, not stupid. I dial Jones and wait for her impatiently. After being raised with the girl, my internal alarm is shouting at me to do something. I have to protect her. Something shatters inside, but I hear nothing else. Scarlett told me not to come in. But I have to. Going to the front door I kick it in, jogging down the moldy steps.

"Get the children." Scarlett pants, her eyes blazing. She's carving into the mans skin, whispering dark things into his ear as he whimpers. I'm appalled, she's practically mutilating the man. Scarlett has never done something so grotesque, but then I see why. The little girl is shivering in the corner, her skin bleeding in new wounds, while old ones were healed over and scarred onto her soft skin. The little boy was in the same state, huddled by his sisters side. The man had practically used their skin as a sketchpad. Scarlett was returning the favor.

"Come on. I won't hurt you." I say, lifting them from the concrete. The little girl whimpers in pain and my heart wrenches.

"You'll never touch a child again, you filth." Scarlett is snarling at the man. He's handcuffed, and weak from blood loss. Scarlett flips the man over and pulls down his pants. The mans screams rattle the house.

* * *

><p>"Self defense." Scarlett tells Jones, covered in the mans blood. She's cruel, a Holmes down to the bone. An eye for an eye is the philosophy that she learned from her cold father.<p>

"Did you see anything, Agent Moran?" Jones asks dully, already knowing my answer.

"Self defense." I agree. He sighs, filling out the report. The man is withering on a stretcher, clutching the genitals that were almost completely removed.

"What about the kids? Will they be alright?" I ask.

"The little girl will be scarred for the rest of her life." Scarlett said, her lips pressed together in a tight line. The man had molested the child, she was no older then seven. Scarlett had done the best she could to get revenge, but she seemed at a loss. Her eyes were wet.

* * *

><p>"Scarlett!" John laughed, lifting her into one of his affectionate hugs. Jealously pathetically rippled in me. Scarlett didn't like being touched, but she touched John voluntarily. She returned the hug to the older man, inhaling his scent against his neck. He laughed, swatting her away.<p>

"You're so weird." He said, dragging her into another hug.

"Sherlock." Scarlett greeted her father. Sherlock nodded to her, lines were appearing around his eyes for the first time as he aged, handsomely of course.

"I got you that flat so you would visit frequently, but you never come by." John complained, leading her to the table and moving aside a splayed open human foot which was sitting on ice. He didn't seem in the least bothered by it. I smirked. On Scarlett's table at her flat, she had roadkill held open with metal tweezers.

"I'm busy. You know just as well as I do how tiresome med school can be." She said, examining the foot over his shoulder.

"True, I home your having some fun though. That's part of the college experience." John said, touching her hair. Scarlett didn't seem to mind, her eyes still trained on the muscle tissue.

"I went to a party. It was miserable." She mutters. I scowl. She never told me that. John laughs, and his hand falls to her forearm. Jealousy, again. I'm ridiculous, but I can't help it. She never lets me touch her so casually without sneering.

"I saw the telly, you caught that 'Grim' guy. The murderer, right?" John asked, going to pour her some tea. Scarlett flinched. I caught her gaze and her stiff shoulder relaxed slightly. She was still affected by the man, it had shattered her naive view of the world. She's always known of how atrocious some people could be, she'd even heard stories from Sherlock. But never before had she witnessed it first hand.

"Yes, I did." She sipped the tea. After dinner, John and me retired to the couch to watch boxing. Scarlett and Sherlock were spending time together in the kitchen, talking about the foot.

"Oh, gangrene!" Scarlett said in delight, her father smiling at her. I laughed, shaking my head.

* * *

><p>I could afford a much nicer flat then the one I was staying in. Scarlett, her flatmate, and an old grumpy man, lived on the fourth floor of our old complex. Scarlett played chess with the old man regularly, declaring him the best chess player in the world when he managed to beat her once, even though I think she lost on purpose because he was having a bad day.<p>

"Kier." Scarlett's voice appeared from my window. My hand instinctively when to the gun on the bedside table before falling back onto the mattress. I fell back on the bed, still half asleep. The fire escape connected our two rooms together, and I always made sure my window was open. Just in case.

"Nightmare?" I guessed my voice deeper as I stretched. Her bare feet padded against the hardwood floor. She was wearing the tee shirt I've been looking for. She crawled into the bed, curling at my side. I pulled her closer, and she didn't push me away.

"You okay?" I asked, brushing the hair from her forehead. She pushed her smooth cheek into my palm, the callouses scratched lightly against her pale skin. She didn't seem to mind.

"I'm scared." She said, repulsion barely hidden. She hated feeling, feeling anything. She wanted to be a machine, even her father showed more affection for John then she did for anyone.

"Don't be. I'm here. I'll protect you." I promised, shutting my eyes. If only that were true. If only Scarlett was a broken girl I could piece together. But she wasn't. She was strong, brave, fierce. My thoughts made me smile. She was amazing. I was nearly asleep again when soft lips touched mine. My eyes snapped open to meet two silver blue eyes peering up at me.

"Scar-" I murmured against her lips. Her eyes fluttered half shut, and she deepened the kiss. I'd always thought it was creepy as hell to kiss with your eyes open, but this, Scarlett of course would turn the creepiest thing into the sexiest. It felt like my entire body was being electrocuted, little zaps flickered up and down my spine. I gripped her hair, coaxing my tongue into her mouth. She gasped, and I nearly finished in my pants.

"Scarlett," I rasped, shifting back. My brain wasn't working, I was muddled. I tried shaking the haze from my mind as she stared up at me, her hair spread around her shoulders prettily.

"We should stop." I mutter, annoyed with myself for even suggesting it. Scarlett narrowed her eyes and sat up.

"Why?" She asks.

"You're not ready." I say instantly. She scoffs, and I'm suddenly the one on my back. Scarlett looks down at me, a smirk on her face.

"You sure you're talking about me?" She questions. Her fingers trace my chest, the cotton shirt barely hinders the tremors that race directly from her fingertips down to my groin. Jesus fucking Christ. I was the one acting like a virgin!

"W-What exactly is it you want to do?" I wince as my voice stutters. I'm twice her size, two years older, and four times stronger. That doesn't stop me from laying beneath her like trembling preteen. Knowing Scarlett, she probably just wanted to do an experiment with kissing. Or see how my heartbeat increases when she seduces me. She can't possibly mean to-

"Have intercourse. I've taken the proper precautions to prohibit any reproduction from possibly happening." She informs, kissing down my neck. She's never kissed my neck before, and my head spins. I arch off the bed against her like a horny teenager. I take in a shaky breath.

"You can just say you took birth control." I point out, she kisses me and right when I'm about to return it her lips disappear to nip at my jaw. I grit my teeth.

"Take off your clothes." She orders softly in my ear. I choke back a sob as my body shutters so violently I think I might be convulsing. I must look like an idiot, getting so turned on for stuff kids do in middle school. It's weird, because usually girls take a while to get me off. But Scarlett could do it by just whispering a couple of dirty things in my ear. I grip her shoulders and roll us over. I'm on top know, and she seems annoyed by the lack of dominance her position displays. Images of her forcing me down as she rides me cause me to nearly collapse on her. Fuck I need to get a hold of myself. I tug off my shirt, throwing it to the ground.

"The agency, they make you exercise more?" She asks, tracing the more defined muscles on my arms and stomach. I nod, not trusting my voice to not crack.

"You've filled out, you look like a man now." She says to herself, talking aloud. She sometimes doesn't realize when she does this. I don't reply, letting her trace her hands over the muscles of my chest, tracing the scars. Her fingers touched the bullet wound on my chest, right above my heart. I briefly remember her fingers brushing over my heart. The passionate lust has faded into slow burning, helping to clear my head. It's not any less distracting though.

"You're sure you want this?" I ask. She looks up, like she forgot I was there and she was studying a corpse. My arms are braced on either side of her small build. She's so tiny. Her legs are tangled with mine, our breaths mingled.

"I'm curious." She says as an answer. My stomach rolls with dread and I scowl.

"So anyone would do? Just as long as you get fucked?" I snap. It takes a lot for me to loose my temper, but Scarlett has it down to an art. My jaw clenches and she brushes her thumb over the muscle there, her eyes examining.

"Don't talk to me like that." She warns seriously. I drop my forehead to hers, embarrassed. Scarlett's a woman. I can't be petty and say stupid things, she'll call me on my shit.

"Say you want me. Only me." I urge, she stares at me for moment. She's thinking, thinking if she really would only have me. I shut my eyes in agony. Why can't she just be a bit more stupid and not take everything so literal. I chastise myself for thinking like that. I love her the way she is, even if she is a pain in my ass.

"I only want you." She concludes. My pulse quickens and I kiss her again. She returns it heatedly, I curse against her mouth and have trouble holding myself up from crushing her. She tugs at my hair, and I lift my jaw, she kisses down my throat, sucking marks along the way.

"I have work tomorrow, someone will see." I complain, but she ignores me. Her lips are on my chest, she examines a freckle there before lapping at my nipple. My hips dart forward, bumping hers. She looks up at me.

"Are men's areola as sensitive as females?" She asks, rubbing her thumb over my other bud. I grit my teeth.

"I've never had a girl play with my nipples before," I admit. She hums in the back of her throat and her tongue flickers out over the pink peak of flesh. Shit! That feels good. I slide my leg between hers and lift her leg to wrap around my hip. I rock against her and she tosses back her head.

"You like that?" I whisper throatily, and she raises an eyebrow in amusement. I flush, okay so maybe my lines I picked up from late night porno's might not work so well on Scar.

"Obviously. Spare me your dirty talk, Kieran." She says, her teeth closing around my other nipple. I dig my fingers into the mattress.

"You haven't called me Kieran for awhile." I comment. She hums again, watching my reactions closely.

"You respond to both pain and pleasure. Do you find both stimulating?" She asks, scraping her teeth over my collar bone. I squeeze my eyes shut.

"You could slap me, and I'd find it stimulating." I mutter, and suddenly my cheek is stinging.

"Ow." I grunt, holding my cheek. She shakes her hand before placing it on my chest.

"You don't look very aroused." She says. I sigh, closing my eyes before speaking.

"Figure of speech." I say simply. She blinks before nodding.

"Oh. I thought we'd agree you would refrain from rhetorical speech." She said, resting her lips to my erect nipple. My cock twitched and I shifted it from her on reflex, every time I'd made out with her, it ended as soon as she felt me getting hard.

"Yeah, well thanks for reminding me why." I said sarcastically. Her eyes went wide when my hip brushed her thigh. I cursed.

"Sorry!" I winced, remembering all those looks she would send me. Betrayal, and hurt from when we were younger. Her eyes flickered downwards and she touched my hips, forcing me down against hers.

"Don't apologize. I'm not seventeen anymore." She smiles, kissing me again. Our tongues barely touch before she's disappearing beneath me.

"What the hell, Scar?" I snap, annoyed at her not letting me get my fill of her mouth. She's so impatient, always moving on to the next thing just when I'm starting. Two steps of me, even in sex. I suddenly feel her warm breath on my stomach and I made a very 'manly' noise, which causes her to laugh against my hip.

"I want to see, I'm curious." She laughs, her breath on my groin as she tugs down my sweatpants. My thighs are resting against her shoulders, and she's laying on her back underneath me. I hold myself up on my forearms, squirming.

"Scar, this isn't how you do it-" I rasp. Her breath, it's on my skin. I get harder and it bumps her lips in the confined space she is laying between my legs.

"It's wet." She whispers. I groan as the movement forces her lips against the tip. She doesn't seem to mind at all that my cock is resting against her mouth. Those thick, red lips, I rest my forehead on the mattress, whining.

"Scarlett." I choke out, my voice begging. She licks at the tip and it takes everything in me to not rub my hips against her face, I tremble, twisting above her. This is torture.

"Fascinating, I didn't know men leaked." Neither did I. I was dripping steadily on her mouth, not that I could see. Whenever I looked down, the blankets blocked out the moonlight, forcing me to look into shadows. I couldn't see what she was doing. But I could sure feel it.

"Put it in your mouth." I beg, I shouldn't. She's a virgin, the kinkier stuff should come later. I should be pleasing her. But I can't help myself. Instantly I'm in a warm, wet mouth. I roll my hips, and slide deeper into her throat.

"Fuck-" I snarl into the mattress, thickening even further, if possible. I feel like I'm going to burn from all the pleasure thrumming through my veins. Scarlett gags and I pull out immediately. She coughs lightly before taking me back in her mouth. I groan.

"Scarlett, no more." I hiss, she takes a long, strong suck before popping off.

"Why?" She asks, licking the down the length.

"Because I'm-Shit!" I shout, thrashing as she licks at my balls. She sucks one into her mouth, rolling it around her tongue.

"Your left testicle is larger then your right." She informs from between my thighs, rubbing her tongue between the sack.

"Yeah, thanks for the info, Doc." I grunt, reaching between my legs and dragging her up. My cum is smeared on her cheek and eyebrow, I shiver with lust and wipe her face clean with my sheet.

"On your back." She demands. I hesitate before kicking off my sweatpants and laying down on my bed. Scarlett climbs on top of me. Memories of her crawling onto my chest when she was only twelve and I was already fifteen. She would rest her forehead to mine, and tell me deductions while I called her annoying and told her to go away. She was like an annoying little sister in that stage of my life. Now look at us.

"Kier." She said my name softly, her eyes uncertain. Carefully I kissed her, she doesn't know what to do next. I pulled down her panties and she slipped them off.

"Shirt." I remind, and she frowns.

"I don't want to." She says. I raise an eyebrow.

"I'm naked, you have to be too." I say, and she is about to prepare a long argument before shutting her beautiful swollen lips.

"Fine." She lifts her shirt and tosses it to the floor. I bite my lip, full mounds of flesh appear before me. Pink nipples pucker in the cold night air. I lean up and catch on my mouth. She gasps, and I move my hips to to hers and my eyes snap open.

"Wow." I say, dropping the erect flesh from my mouth. Scarlett moves her hips away, flushed.

"Shut up." She growls.

"You're dripping." I leer, pulling her back down to my chest. She's blushing profusely. I push my thigh back between her legs and grunt.

"Fuck." Even her thighs are coated in the slippery warmth. I rub against her and she ducks her head, hiding her reaction from me.

"I have to get a condom." I sigh, leaning over my bedside table. She catches my hand.

"No need, I've had us both tested. I thought I might have inherited more than my mothers good looks, judging by her profession." Scarlett says simply. I nod, but blink.

"You want to have sex, without a condom?" I ask. Scarlett nods. I would never do it with somebody I didn't trust. But this was Scarlett, and she had _had_ us tested.

"I want to feel you inside me." She says impatiently against my ear, she's adjusting her body in preparation. Not in the least trying to be sexy. My skin broke out in a cold sweat. Her much smaller body having to slide down further. I cling to her.

"Say that again." I caress her hair as she settles, I'm resting against her fully, her heat is encasing the tip of my cock.

"What?" She asks, distracted. Her face is hidden against my collar. I turn and meet her gaze.

"Say it." I whisper against her mouth. She swallows thickly and bites her lip. She's nervous. I kiss her slowly and she returns it. I rest my forehead against hers and she shivers.

"I want to feel you, inside me." She says, blue eyes wide. I connect with her fully.

* * *

><p>I snore when I sleep. Not really loud, but sometimes I wake myself up, like just now. I jerk awake and look around the room. Fall back onto the bed a hand slides over my chest. Did I bring home a girl last night? I look down and my eyes widen. Memories from the long night rush back. Scarlett had forced two orgasms from me, while she had well over four. My bed was mess, covered in our dried fluids, and my thighs aching from how much strain I'd put to thrust up into her, to please her.<p>

'Give yourself to me, Kier.' She's whispered sometime earlier that morning and I'd lost it. She was supposed to be the innocent little virgin that I took, but I has thrashed beneath her all night whining and begging for release.

"Good morning." A hoarse voice whispered. Scarlett was a screamer, she tried to tamper down her voice but she was loud. I loved it.

"Morning." I greeted. She sat up and winced, shutting her legs she squeezed them together in pain. I licked my lips when I saw the marks on her neck, and breasts, and hips. Mine.

"Did I hurt you?" I asked. I shout have been gentler, but I couldn't help it. She was so ... perfect. Well, perfect for me anyway.

"Yes." She answered in annoyance, shooting me a glare. I smirked cheekily and she opened her mouth at the same time a knock sounded at the door. I looked up in confusion. Struggling out of the bed, I tugged on my sweat pants discarded on the floor last night.

"I'm coming." I called to the impatient rapping on the door. I winced as I rolled my shoulders. Glancing in the mirror on my way to the door, I flushed at the dark bruises sucked into my chest and neck. I guess she was as possessive as me. Good. Opening the door I nearly gaped as John and Sherlock stood there.

"Scarlett's missing! She disappeared from her room last night!" John said frantically. Sherlock was looking at me suspiciously.

"The fire escape connects your two rooms, doesn't it?" Sherlock asked, his eyes contemptuous.

"Yeah, uh, she said something about going out on a case or something-" I lied. Footsteps behind me.

"What do you want?" Scarlett asked, appearing in nothing but my tee shirt. The bruises on her pale thighs were unmistakable. John stood stunned for five seconds before his eyes darkened.

"You deflowered my daughter?" John snarled. I ducked under his punch and Sherlock's hands. I hauled ass down the stairs.

"I'll kill you Moran!" Sherlock roared over the balcony. I could hear Scarlett in a fit of laughter as her fathers planned my murder. Even though I would have to hide out for a few days, duck out the CCTV's, and avoid attempts on my life. For Scarlett, it was all worth it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Why isn't anyone review? Have you lost interest in the story? **


	20. Bonus Chapters

o0Bonus Chapters0o

"Wow, what happened to you Kier?" Carter frowned. I flushed, scrambling to pull my shirt over my head.

"Nothing." I answered with a barbed tone. We were changing after a long day of chasing down a murderer. The locker room in the field office was were we cooled down after a hard days work.

"You look like you got mauled." Carter said, I winced. He was even more naive then Scarlett. A boy genius who had a knack for technology and science. We'd been paired together. He's the brain, I'm the brawn.

"It's nothing." I say sharply, not wanting to explain how my girlfriend didn't understand the concept of being gentle during sex. I made a ridiculous face when the thought entered my mind. Only a week earlier we'd had the big conversation.

"We've been together for a few months now ..." I said from my couch. She'd brought over her microscope from her room, insisting my kitchen was a better work space. Her roommate had forbidden anything other then edible food in the kitchen. Scarlett had a very vast idea of what things could be considered edible.

"We've been together much longer then a few months." She corrects, her voice unusually soft as she focuses on whatever thing is twitching beneath her microscope. I watch her, messy curls falling over her shoulders. Chubby thighs crossed elegantly beneath one of my large shirt. Scarlett hates clothes.

"I mean, together in a romantic sense." I explain. Scarlett doesn't answer, twisting a knob on the scope to get a clearer view. I glance at the men doing mixed martial arts on the telly, the volume is low so Scarlett won't complain and correct their fighting style just from listening to their grunts of pain.

"So, I've been thinking ..."

"That's never good." She hurls back. I roll my eyes. Great. She's in one of her moods.

"I've been thinking ..."

"If you're going to propose marriage, let me save you the trouble. No." She bites out. I look up, startled. Getting married? I'd never even considered it, well I had. But for Scarlett to do something so ... normal. It seemed ludicrous.

"That's not what I was going to ask you." I grit back. Just because marriage never really crossed my mind, doesn't mean it didn't hurt to be rejected. Scarlett straightened, my shirt falling off her shoulder.

"Then what?" She asks impatiently, tapping her fingers on the counter in the center of the small kitchen. I inhale a deep breath, shrugging.

"Be my girlfriend." I state. She huffs, ducking down to her microscope, lacking any interest in the conversation I'd spent days rehearsing in my head.

"Regarding my earlier statement, I've been both your friend and a female for as long as I can remember." She says, now annoyed. I rub my temple, sliding my fingers up to pinch the bridge of my nose.

"You know what I'm talking about, Scar." I try to reign back my temper. Scarlett and I fight like cats and dogs. A cliche idiom she would be appalled to hear me use.

"If you're referring to our relationship, I already thought I made if very clear you belong to me." She says with ease. My stomach gets warm, like it always does when she says something even remotely sane or emotional.

"And you belong to me." I meant to say it as a question, but the words blunted towards the end, becoming a command. Scarlett snorted, not even bothering too look up.

"I belong to no one." She scribbled down something in her notebook. I clenched my fists, trying to smother the jealousy. I hated this part, she'd come up with a brilliant retort and make me feel like an idiot.

"That's not fair-"

"I can promise you, that your mediocre ideals on the subject are not even worth me evaluating and dismissing. As I'm sure you already know." She hums. I stand, leaving my apartment before I say something I'll regret. Scar doesn't try and stop me. I didn't return until late that night, smelling of booze. I hated liquor, and the way it made me feel. But anything was better then having to deal with the emotions Scarlett sent whirring within me. I struggled to open the door, dropping the key twice and cursing. When I finally made it in my apartment, Scarlett was curled up on the couch. The telly reflecting off her face, she was watching a western. One of her many unhealthy obsessions. She had her chin resting on her pale knees. Silver blue eyes met mine.

"You're drunk." She stated, surprise hidden beneath her stoic expression.

"You're a bitch." I shot back, giving her a lazy smirk. Eyes narrowed instantly, and I chuckled, spreading my arms in a challenge.

"Say that again." She warned, eyes blazing. My stomach rolled with lust. I reached behind me, fumbling with the heavy duty lock. I was still a well known assassin, being recruited by the British government did little to hinder that.

"You. Are. A. Bitch." I grin, and suddenly she's across the room, shoving me against the wall.

"Here I thought you might actually have a brain in that fat head of yours." She sneered, looking impressively dangerous despite her diminutive height.

"You're so _scared_." I mocked, she blinked. Blue eyes confused before hardening with realization. My beautiful, brilliant girl.

"I'm not scared of anything." She frowned, I licked my lips, tasting the hard liquor.

"You're scared of loosing me, that's why you hold me at arms length. You can't bare the thought of me leaving you, huh, Scar?" I taunted, making myself feel better. My drunken mind was muddled.

"You're a moron." She hissed, I draped myself over her. She stumbled back, gasping as we fell back onto the couch. My weight pressed her into the cushions.

"Don't worry, I'll never leave you Scar. Even if you are a pain in my ass. I love you _so_ much." My words slurred, I was pretty sure I was missing a few parts in the sentence. But when I pulled back to give Scarlett some room to breath she was crying. The telly reflecting off the tears silently trailing down her high cheekbones.

"Get off me." She ordered. My mouth fell open, and even in my obliterated state I desperately tried to memorize her face. Scarlett Holmes was actually crying? And not over John, or Sherlock, but for me. Even when she was at her angriest she would never cry, like some girls did. But right now those tears were for me. I smiled, pressing my lips to her cheeks.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, kissing the salty tears. She turned away from my kisses, pressing her face into the couch.

"Scar, don't cry." I muttered, kissing every part of her I could reach. She squirmed away from me, I fumbled to grab her.

"You don't have to be my girlfriend. This is fine, whatever you want." I blurted out, scowling at myself. I should stand my ground, but with Scarlett it was like going head to head with battering ram.

"What do I care how you label our relationship?" She spat, disappearing into my room. I stared after her, before a slow smile spread over my lips.

"So that's a yes?" I laugh, stumbling after her. She's a tiny bump on the bed, covered in blankets. I pounce on her and she grunts.

"You stink of alcohol. Get out of my bed." She hisses.

"This is my bed." I remind, nuzzling happily into her hair like an over sized lap dog.

"I don't care." She huffs. I chuckle, nearly skipping to the damn bathroom. To others it might not be much, but indifference was just as good as a declaration when it came to my Scarlett.

"Are those teeth marks?" Carter asks back in the locker room. I glance in the mirror, wincing.

"Uh, yeah. Scarlett was doing an experiment." I lie lamely. Carter was like Scarlett, geeky version. They got along famously until the other had a different theory. Then all hell broke loose.

"Fascinating, tell her to send me the data. I've collected my own hypothesis-"

"I'll tell her to call you." I cut him off, hefting my duffle bag over my shoulder. I had to get home to my girlfriend.

* * *

><p>"Hey, hey! What the <em>hell<em> do you think you're doing?" I shout. Scarlett had stitched together my bedding into a makeshift punching back, stuffed with the feathers from my pillows. My room was covered in feathers and strips of cloth.

"Kickboxing. A sport that originated in-"

"I mean why are you using makeshift equipment when I bought you a gym membership last month!" I snap.

"I can barely get any exercise when every other man is coming to up to me to compliment my form. I don't need to be told how exquisite my stance and style are." She pants out, breath ragged from exertion. I don't bother correcting her that they were't really complimenting her fighting style. Scar doesn't realize when she's getting hit on, unless it's painfully obvious. It's hard to speak when her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, hair darkened with sweat. She's wearing a pair of my boxer shorts and a sports bra.

"Are you wearing panties?" I can't help but stutter out. The question earns a raised eyebrow from the young woman.

"Of course not." She answers, taking another round of jabs at my favorite comforter. My cock twitches in my jeans, I dig my fingers into my arms. Scarlett gets annoyed when I bother her too much for sex. The first two weeks we'd barely left bed, but after her 'experiments' had ended she'd restricted me to three times a week. It was Tuesday and I'd already used all three. I lick my lips, watching the sweat drip down her back.

"Scar-"

* * *

><p>Kieran was aroused. Copper eyes blown wide. His tan skin flushing at the cheeks as he watched me with a keen interest he barely bothered giving anything else. I was used to this look, this arousal from my partner. He had been giving it to me more and more. I'd always thought that after he had taken my virginity he would be sated. I was wrong.<p>

"What?" I bite out, annoyed that his emotions can affect mine so directly. I swipe my wrapped knuckles across my mouth, wiping the sweat away.

"Nothing." Kier answers, voice husky. He's almost as stubborn as me, at times maybe even more so. He turns walking back into the living room. I scowl, following him. Always so quite, and stubborn.

"Kieran." I call, watching his massive shoulders stiffen. The affects I have on a man three times my size are fascinating. He could force me to do so many things, he could pin me down and take whatever he wanted. But instead he fumbles, flushing with annoyance and making dry attempts at humor. When we do have sex he trembles, gasping against my neck.

"Are you mad at me?" I ask, of course he isn't. He's leaning on the counter, slim hips are clad in his black slacks. He's wearing his uniform for work. I tug at the tie and he bends down so I can brush my lips over his strong jaw immediately. It's something that happens because we've been together for so long. Action and reaction. It happens between John and Sherlock as well, when one moves the other follows.

"No." He answers stiffly, golden eyes flickering shut. Strong fingers bite into my skin, too rough, already bruising my pale hips. He tries to be gentle during sex, his hands fluttering uselessly over my skin so he doesn't hurt me. But before, when I'm seducing him, he is completely unable to control himself. It's tantalizing.

"Then, pray tell why you are so ... rigid?" I grip his arm and it flexes and hardens, probably to show off the bulge of muscle. Kier's form is something to marvel at.

"Scar, don't tease me." His voice is raspy, even more gravelly then usual. A warning, the tone authoritative. I've always had an issue with authority. The light stubble on his cheek scratches my skin, his lips brushing my ear. I smirk, he's so easy.

"Fine." I say, heading back to the punching bag I made. A large hand wraps around my waist, resting on my belly. I shiver, glancing over my shoulder.

"Don't." He says sternly. Lust is a new sensation for me, but Kieran seems to know how to make it appear as if on cue. His gun calloused fingers are pressing into the soft flesh of my stomach. His tan skin colliding with my pale.

"Don't; what?" I counter. I know Kier, I can read his thoughts with a look, as he can read mine. But I love taunting him, making him beg. His hand drops from my waist, and I frown. Stubborn mule.

"Nothing." He growls, stalking past me. I huff, fine. If he wants to play that game. I narrow my eyes, jumping up onto the island in the middle of our kitchen. I swing my legs thoughtfully as he takes a shower. When he's finished I'm still thinking. Perhaps I should run a series of experiments on what makes him aroused the fastest. I've already deduced what makes him climax the quickest and hardest. But seducing him is a whole other field I've yet to explore. I reach over, finding his laptop.

"Scarlett, how many times have I told you. It's illegal for you to be on that." Kieran growls, plucking the laptop from my hands. I hiss at him, wrapping a leg around his waist. He's only wearing gray sweatpants. My favorite. His abdominals are still damp.

"Will you punish me, agent Moran?" I purr mockingly. Dirty talk, something I'm not fluent in nor know how to properly execute. But Kieran seems to be especially prone to my accidental attempts.

"Don't start what you won't finish." He bites out, annoyed now. I'm prone to leaving Kieran halfway through fellatio or sex when I become bored or have a thought. He becomes increasingly aggravated.

"Or what, you'll spank me?" I grin, proud of myself. I'd watched porn for the first time the other day. The girl had been my age, tanned, with bleach blonde hair extensions. She'd moaned cheaply for the hairy older man rutting into her. She'd been mostly unsatisfied with the entire event, but she had become extremely aroused when the man had spanked her, it was fascinating. The moment the words left my mouth, Kieran solidified. His large body going frozen, his eyes going wide.

"Where the hell did you hear about that?" He snapped, jealous. I curled a hand around the back of his neck, he didn't seem to notice the way his body immediately melted against mine. I wrapped a thigh around his hip. His face was still twisted with envy.

"The internet." I shrug, pulling him closer. He's scowling, bordering pouting. I nose at the underside of his jaw, the sensitive skin causing his entire body to shiver when I lick and bite at it.

"Do you want to?" I ask, his damp hair is just barely long enough to grip. I force his head down, even on the counter he has to stoop to reach me.

"Want to?" He murmurs, his voice going sweet and syrupy. I scratch at his scalp, and he makes a cracked little gasp in the back of his throat. I wrap my legs around him fully. I love when he's like this, putty in my hands. His breath becoming increasingly short, and his massive body and mind belonging only to me.

"Want to spank me?" I kiss the side of his mouth and he inhales sharply, drooping eyes widening.

"I thought you were kidding." He says, sobered immediately. I slide off the counter, annoyed again at our height difference. I lean over the counter and scowl as the top presses into my ribs, prohibiting me from bending over fully. Strong hands suddenly have a hold of my hips and are lifting me up onto the counter. I yelp, my legs swinging off the edge, my belly pressed hard into the marble.

"I can't reach-" I complain, gasping as Kieran's boxers are dragged down from my hips, slipping down my legs.

"Hey!" I shout, I smell salty from the exercise. The sweat already dried to my skin. He was clean behind me, smelling like soap and shampoo.

"Shhh." He muttered. I scrabbled for hold on the sleek tiles, Kier was breathing heavily at my back. Admiring my figure, I glared at the tiles, my bleary reflection flushed. My hair was tugged from it's ponytail, to fall over my shoulders. I felt him reach under my ribcage, to pull open my sports bra that had a tiny clasp between my cleavage.

"I never said-"

"Quite, you're being punished." He smiled against my ear. My naked breasts touched the cold slates. I choked in a ragged breath, pressing my forehead to the cool tiles.

"How many do you think? Twenty?" He asked, massaging my pasty, fleshy backside. He seemed to enjoy my flabbiness, drawn to the opposite of his own strong, toned body. I found my ... softness rather annoying. Something both me and Mycroft inherited from Grandpa Holmes.

"Yeah, right, like you'd-" A scream of shock snagged in my throat. I bucked back, feeling my flesh sting.

"Fuck." Kieran's deep curse sent rivets of pleasure coursing through my body. Another sharp slap stung my bottom, causing me to jump and whine.

"Kier," I whined pathetically. My mind dulled, endorphins rushing through my body like a drug. I gagged at the pleasure and pain mixing together. My ass ached, Kieran's large hands were easily spanning the majority of my entire bottom. My thighs damped, muscles twitching with arousal. Another sharp smack of flesh on flesh sounded in the room. I mewled, clawing at the tiles, arching my back and digging my toes into the wood of the cabinet.

"Who knew you'd be kinky." Kier smirked, his voice horse. I wasn't even annoyed, I just trembled at the sound of his voice. I raised my hips off the slates, offering myself to him. He let out a shuttering breath. A quick succession of five slaps sent me reeling.

"Kieran-" I sobbed, finally finding grooves I could squeeze my toes into and spread my legs and lift my hips. Another sharp smack to my exposed clit send me flat back onto the counter, my thighs pressed together tightly as I moaned.

"Shh!" Kieran hissed, I bite my lip at his urgency. Someone was coming, his stupid assassin ears could hear footsteps coming up the steps.

"Again, please." I begged, wiggling. His hand pressed over the overheated flesh of my bum.

"Fuck, I think your parents are here." He muttered, gripping the boxers and yanking them up my thighs. He pulled me down off the counter and I huffed, shakily allowing him to carry me and drop me on the couch. A sharp knock sounded on the door. Sherlock and John didn't even bother to go next door to my actual flat anymore.

"Kieran, where is my daughter?" John's muffled voice came through the door. I inhaled sharply, trying to concentrate on the voice and smother my arousal. Sherlock would be able to tell. I stumbled into the room as Kieran opened the door.

"You guys must miss me a lot, you sure visit enough." Kier complained as my fathers came into our living room without an invite.

"Hardly. Where is Scarlett?" Sherlock asked.

"In the shower." Kieran said, I yanked the knob. Hopefully Sherlock had been distracted enough not to hear, although it was unlikely. Getting in I quickly bathed the sweat and arousal from my body. Drying my hair with a towel I put on actual clothes before going into the living room.

"I'm nearly twenty three, and have a live in assassin as an assistant. I don't think I need to be checked on every other day." I complain.

"We come at three day intervals. It seems we were interrupting something." Sherlock sneered, his eyes landing on Kieran with accusation. John sat up straighter.

"Not at all, I was exercising." I lied effortlessly. It accounted for my blown pupils and the heady scent that filled the apartment thanks to my mind numbing pleasure. I shot a look at Kier when I was sure Sherlock was looking at John, Kieran licked his lips wickedly when our gazes clashed. Bastard.

"The police force is holding the banquet for you." John reminded. I blinked, I'd completely forgotten.

"What!" Kier snapped, jerking from his lingering lust. I sighed, knowing the lecture was coming.

"They're holding a banquet in honor of Scarlett after she caught that serial killer who had been on the loose for ten years." John bragged, flashing me his pearly smile. Fondness warmed my belly.

"I'm not going." I said, yawning. John's eyebrows shot up.

"You have to go." John ordered, using his military voice. Sherlock was intensely examining Kier.

"I don't have to do anything, you taught me that John." I cooed. John ruffled up like an angry hen.

"I also taught you to not be rude. This is an honor-"

"To whom? I don't think being paraded around a bunch of old men is worth my time. They're only doing it because I'm a young, female, genius that they want to put in the newspapers." I snort. The Yard was trying to turn me into a celebrity, allowing reporters information I did not want public.

"Or maybe it's because your bloody gorgeous." Kieran said casually, rubbing his eye. Sherlock and John both glared at him, and I blinked. Rarely did he complement me so blatantly. I felt my cheeks heat up.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going." I huff, crossing my arms. Sherlock and John were both dressed nicely. John had smoothed down my fathers wild curls.

"Scarlett Holmes!" John started.

"Scar, come on." Kieran sighed, sounding exasperated. I grunted, looking out the window with a glare.

"Fine." I pouted, hating how easy it was for Kieran to influence me. A hand touched my damp curls, and I blushed at the pat on top of my head.

"We'll be there in an hour." Kier promised.

* * *

><p>"This is stupid." I sniff, pushing away Kier when he tries to put a hand around my waist. My bum is stinging, every step rubs headily against my throbbing backside. We haven't even entered the party and I'm already damp, my stomach muscles jumping with arousal.<p>

"Come on, it could be fun." Kier shrugs, looking as bored as I feel. I smile at him, but he doesn't see it. He's looking straight ahead, a yawn curling his slender lips.

"Kier-" I gasp, gripping his tie and yanking him down to my height. He blanches, stumbling a step forward and knocking me into the back of the elevator. His warm body smells nice and masculine. His after shave sinks into my skin as I caress him.

"Scarlett, wait." He curses, shivering as I moan into his mouth. Any objections he has vanish as he digs his fingers into my hair, forcing me on my tip toes so he can smash our mouths together. I growl against his lips as he lifts me off the ground with ease, his fingers reaching beneath my tight white black dress to touch the stinging slap marks. I sob into his mouth, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He reaches between my legs, ripping a slit in the nylons between my legs. I choke back the insult at the tip of my tongue. I want this just as bad. I fumble with his belt, unlatching it and buttoning it. Just as I pull down his slacks over his narrow hips the elevator dings.

"Congratulations!" The room calls, before erupting into gasps. Thankfully Kier is blocking what lays naked and wet between my spread legs. But clearly they can see me wrapped around the young man, his slacks around his thighs. I release him, landing with a click as my heels hit the floor. I straighten my dress.

"Thank you." I say, smirking as I leave Kier to fumble with pulling his trousers back over his erection. The crowd stairs as I walk into them, heading to John who is covering his face in embarrassment. Sherlock looks annoyed. I snicker as Kier quickly pressed another button to get the elevator to go back up.

* * *

><p>I was shaking, my whole body thrumming with my building orgasm. I rocked my hips forward, pressing into the sweet hard friction. Scarlett had the toe of her high heel digging into my crotch. She didn't even bother taking off her shoe, if I moved forward to quickly the heel would catch my sack in warning. The table was narrow, but extremely long. At least sixty officers and reporters were at the party. My long legs had been brushing Scarlett's all night. Annoyed, she had started kicking at me, which quickly turned into rubbing, which escalated into fondling certain areas.<p>

"How long have you and Mrs. Holmes known each other?" The reporter asked me. John was sitting beside Scarlett, to keep her from biting the heads off the reporters. Sherlock was thankfully busy arguing with his brother further down the table to notice me and Scarlett's antics.

"A-"I raked in a ragged breath, pressing a palm to my damp forehead. "A very long time." I coughed, tugging at the front of my collar. She bumped the tip of her shoe against my over sensitized sack, I cursed.

"Are you alright Mr. Moran?" The reporter asked. I nodded, plastering on a fake smile.

"Something I ate." I lied effortlessly. I spread my legs to give her better access, and felt the reporters leg bump mine. It was cramped space, he didn't seem to notice and I couldn't shut my legs. I was going to cum in my fucking pants with a reporter pressed against my thigh. I took a deep breath. Scarlett was a picture of calm on the other side of the table, talking with her father. John was smiling at her, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear as he spoke to her tenderly.

"I'm so proud of you-" I caught a bit of him saying. He'd be appalled if he knew what was going on under the dining table.

"Come spend the night at Baker street." John urged.

"No!" I shouted, catching the attention of a few people. Sherlock included, I hid my face from him.

"I uh, I rented your favorite movie." I tell Scarlett. She leers at me, thick eyelashes brushing her cheeks.

"Tombstone?" She asks, an american western from the 90's. I don't see why she thought it was so special, but she loved the fucking thing. I bought it for her a few months ago, and she watched it weekly.

"Yeah." I smile back, her shoe vanished replaced by her small dainty foot encased in the black nylon. If I develop a foot fetish, it is solely her fault. I reach under the table, sliding my palm up her calf. A tremble shivers up her spine, our eyes locking together.

"How long have you two been involved romantically?" The reporter asks, his camera man flashing pictures of us excessively. I smile, while Scarlett frown.

"Around three months. But I was her first kiss." I brag, hoping he publishes it to let others know to back off.

"He also took my virginity." Scarlett adds. Little bitch! John leaps up instantly.

"I knew it! I'll kill you!" John roars, practically clamoring over the table. With my cock so hard I have trouble standing and dashing from the room before anyone can get a good look. Fucking Scarlett! When we get home, she is getting punished. I smirk as I bolt for the exit.


End file.
